Victoire Weasley and the Necromancer's Wine
by CritterCat
Summary: Victoire is the headstrong, golden-haired demon who has tormented her family and friends alike throughout her early years. But now she's going to Hogwarts - a disaster that's going to cause problems for a lot of important grown-ups. Add in an all-too-familiar face at the DADA post, a weird and illegal potion, and then a LOT of lawbreaking - well, things just got interesting.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer** : Nothing! NOTHING! I OWN NOTHING, predictably.

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 **Prologue**

Waves curled on the white sand, topped with sparkling, white foam. The ocean was a perfect, deep blue, unlike the sea-green of other waters, the sand paler than other shores. Seagulls and cormorants spiraled overhead, the gulls darting, white wisps in the air, the cormorants flashing, dark shadows on the surface of the water.

It was early morning, the air fresh, expectant, and cool. The sky was brightening now, the gray of pre-dawn, pink on the horizon.

A gull chick, his colony fishing for oysters, fluffed his scruffy, gray, black-speckled feathers and pecked at a shell. It was white, striped with a pinkish purple that was nevertheless rather dark, and spiraled like a horn. Quickly bored, he hopped off, his long legs disproportionate to the rest of his body.

Footsteps, soft, deliberate, and barefoot, in the white, wet sand, and then a hand descended and closed around the shell, scooping it from the sand, and holding it up towards the dawn.

The man slipped the shell into his pocket, the tiny object lost in his palm. He turned his gaze to the sheer, dark cliffs, the top beginning to glow with sunlight, pale, yet bright. Lush green grasses and draping vines spilt over the cliff's edge, a blanket for the little white cottage at the top of the precipice.

Roses grew up its side, vines twining into the whitewashed, salt-sprayed wood. Light, and airy, awash with the light of dawn, he watched it. In an upstairs window, a light glowed, the flicker of firelight, becoming less noticeable in the rapidly growing sunlight tracing its path down the cliffs, towards sand and sea.

A baby's burble sounded, carried by the wind out, out over the sea.

He broke into a run, sprinting across the sand and up the sheer stone steps carved into the cliff, taking them two at a time until he reached the top, racing across the lush field, towards the house.

The man bolted up the stone path, slammed the door open, and, ignoring the faces around him, startled by his sudden entrance, headed for the stairs.

At the top of the narrow flight, a door stood slightly ajar, letting a glimpse of firelight flicker out into the hall. For the first time, he hesitated, heart in his throat, but he pushed his fear aside as he pushed the door open.

His wife sat by the window, in bed, the curtains billowing out into the room, bringing in the scent of salty, ocean air. The blue blankets were twisted around her legs, twined in a nest at her feet, and wrapped around the bundle in her arms.

"Fleur," he whispered, crossing the room and falling to his knees at her side.

She gave him a glowing smile, her face weary and her hair slicked to her forehead with sweat, but her smile blinded him. She laid a hand on his arm, then pulled it to her and laid it on the bundle in her arms.

"We 'ave a daughter," was all she said, her accent fading after years in Britain, but still noticeable, a light, exotic tone.

"A daughter." He could hardly breath. A _father_. He was a _father_.

The midwife stood in a shadowed corner, smiling at the couple. She picked up her bag and turned towards the door, meaning to leave the new parents in peace for a few minutes, but Bill stopped her arm.

"Will you wait a minute for the announcement, Padma?" he asked her. "Just . . . give us a moment."

"But of course." The young woman pushed the door shut behind her, her footsteps padding softly down the corridor, to the room she had been staying in for the past few days, in wait of this very event.

Bill brushed a lock of blonde hair back from his daughter's forehead, his scarred fingers gentle. He suddenly felt unworthy to be here, to have so much, with Fleur and their perfect child. Fleur seemed to sense his uncertainty, as she cupped the back of his head with one slender hand and kissed him on the lips.

"Next time, please don't make me wait outside," he told her.

"Next time, don't have a panic attack,' Fleur countered.

"I'll try."

" _Je t'aime, mon cher_ ," she whispered, then withdrew, smiling down at her newborn daughter. "Would you like to 'old 'er?"

"Yes," Bill breathed, and his wife patted the bed beside her. He sank down next to her, and she carefully placed the bundle in his arms. The baby was light, as if the was spun with sugar, and Bill held her as if she would break at any moment.

"Relax, _chéri_ ," Fleur told him, a smile on her beautiful face. "She does not bite."

Bill couldn't tear his eyes away from the creature in his arms. She was perfect, her features sweet and soft and pink, her hair, long for a newborns, not Fleur's platinum, but a warm strawberry-blonde, her eyes a bright blue, almost silver. Her mouth puckered slightly as she stared up at him, her eyes large under sweeping, dark lashes, her cheeks flushed rosily. Her little hands, dimpled and perfect, waved in the air as she kicked, unused to the space, the light, the faces. She cooed at her father, who had an endearing besotted-puppy look on his face, as he tucked the shell he had found on the beach into her blankets.

"Shall we let them in?" Fleur asked gently.

Bill nodded, his eyes not leaving his daughter's. Fleur gave him a knowing look, and gently called out to Padma that they were ready for the horde.

A moment later, Molly Weasley let the entire Weasley family in a stampede into the bedroom all simultaneously shushing each other with as much noise as possible. The first at the bedside, however, was not Molly, Arthur, or even one of Bill's siblings, but a small toddler with turquoise curls and nothing on but a diaper and a Weird Sisters t-shirt that probably belonged to his adored 'Ginnymummy.'

Teddy Lupin clambered onto the bed next to Bill and Fleur and eyes the latest Weasley skeptically. He was not a stranger to babies, as Ginny had been sure to tell him about how he would have a two new little friends very soon, both his Auntie Angelina's baby and his Auntie Fleur's. But this spectacle was very very different from what he had expected, and he watched her warily for signs of hostility.

She blew bubbles at him and flapped her arms. Teddy relaxed. Nothing that blew bubbles was going to attack him, a fact that his young mind was quite certain of. He screwed up his nose and turned his hair blond, like hers, and was delighted by the appreciative burble that issued from the tiny person.

Ginny, who had realized that Teddy had escaped from her clutches, spotted him at the bedside and quickly made her way through the pandemonium and snatched Teddy away from her brother and sister-in-law.

But Teddy struggled out of his surrogate mother's grasp and launched himself back at at the baby.

"Look! Look! Look, Ginnymummy! It's the bestest thing ever!"

The chaos died down as the family turned to the commotion. Teddy was bouncing at the foot of the bed, his hair the same shade of strawberry blond as the newborn's. "What's its name?" Teddy demanded of his aunt and uncle.

Bill and Fleur exchanged looks.

"Victoire Celeste Weasley," Fleur announced, smiling at the child in her husband's arms.

"It's so beautiful!" Molly Weasley burst into tears. It became well known later on that the slightest thing could cause waterworks on the birthday of a grandchild, at least in Mrs. Weasley's case.

Ginny threw her arms around Fleur's neck. She, too was crying, thick, happy tears. Teddy looked bewildered.

"I'm sorry I ever called you Phlegm!" Ginny wailed into her sister-in-law's neck, though it was hard to make out the words. Then, so the whole room could hear. "I'm an auntie!"

"And a godmother, too," Fleur told her with a smile. "We would 'ave named 'er Victoire Ginevra, but as you seem to dislike your name . . . "

"That is, if you want to be her godmother," Bill added, but Ginny's answer was lost when Molly Weasley burst into fresh tears and enveloped her youngest child and only daughter in an enormous hug.

When Molly had released Ginny, and Ginny had let out a tearful yes, and everyone in the room, even very pregnant Angelina Johnson-Weasley, had dissolved into to congratulations and squeals, no one noticed Teddy, except Fleur, whose lap he had crawled up on to have better access to the little baby.

Fleur watched him morph his blonde hair bright pink, to the awarding giggles of the little cherub, then begun to make literal funny faces at the infant until she was snatched from Bill's arms and passed around the room, to much squealing and cooing from the women, and especially from George, who had been mocking his wife's antics, and Ron, who was treated to amused look from Hermione and attempted to deny he had ever said "Wooza wooza wittle Wonnie's guwl?"

Fleur waited patiently for her child to be returned to her, but in the meantime, she drew Teddy onto her lap and wrapped her arms around him. The toddler snuggled into her arms and rested his head on her shoulder, and Fleur smiled.

A year before, that very day, Harry Potter (who was now refusing to pass his girlfriend's goddaughter along to her and attempting to deny that he was crying) had defeated Voldemort. A year ago that night, Teddy's parents had lost their lives. A year ago, George had lost his twin.

Fleur smiled as the Chosen One finally gave up and broke down in sobs over the infant. Yes, they had suffered in the past, and the past would never leave them, but now, today, that moment, there were children, and light, and laughter, and a little cottage, twined with roses, on a cliff by the sea. Now, they were alive.

Now, they were whole.

 **Seven years later . . . . .**

Fleur Weasley tossed her blonde braid over her shoulder and bent down to search for the colander in a kitchen cabinet next to the sink. At that moment, she felt someone push her from behind. It wasn't strong enough to do anything but discombobulate her, and that fact, along with the muffled giggling, gave her the identities of the culprits.

She spun around, catching the vagabonds in the act. The giggling did not stop, but grew more choked as a result.

She waved the cleaver in her right hand menacingly at her harassers. "Oh no you don't! No petit gâteau for you tonight, my little troublemakers!" she threatened.

This time, the giggling was cut off, and desperate pleas filled the air.

"Non attends! J'ai faim!" Dominique begged.

Teddy blanched. "Wait! We didn't mean it!"

"Oh, non, maman, s'il te plait!" Vic said hastily.

"Nooo!" Lucy wailed.

"Nooo!" Fred Junior copied his cousin.

"We're sorry!" Roxanne Weasley said, eyes wide.

Kaede Weasley's face crumpled. "Please! I'm _hungry_!"

"C'était l'idée de Vic!" Louis declared, pointing to his sister.

"It was _not_!"

Fleur rolled her eyes, as her eldest dropped the French, which was merely an attempt to placate her mother. But one little rascal had not yet attempted to please his case, and, with a cheeky grin, James Potter wrapped his arms around his part-Veela aunt's knees and smiled cherubically.

"You're my favorite auntie," the two-year-old said cheekily.

In spite of herself, it took a great deal of effort to keep the stern expression on her face. "Ah, bien," she relented. "But run along, you little demons, before I ban you from the kitchen! Et comportez-vous," she added. The last was directed at her two, mainly seven-year-old Victoire, who gave her mother an insolent grin and darted off.

Fleur sighed, setting the cleaver on the counter. If anything, she could be certain that her eldest would definitely _not_ behave herself. It was Wednesday night, which meant all the Weasleys were over for dinner at Shell Cottage. That meant Teddy and Vic, but mostly Vic, had the opportunity to get their cousins into trouble, and that was certainly something Vic wouldn't pass up. Their cousins being all those old enough to truly make mischief, meaning Roxanne, only a few months younger than Victoire, Lucy, Percy's eldest, Charlie's son, Kaede, James Potter, who, despite being only two, was a handful and a half, and Victoire's little siblings, Dominique and Louis.

Dom looked more like her mother than her sister, which was quite a statement, as Vic's Veela charm and pixie like features were all Fleur's, excepting a smattering of freckles akin to her godmother, Ginny's. Dom, however, was silvery-blonde to Vic's strawberry, a tiny version of Fleur, her hair straight and silky where Vic's was curly and untamed. Her personality was more Hufflepuff than anything else, however, and had already started a adoration for all magical creatures inherited from her Uncle Charlie. Louis, on the other hand, took after Fleur in both appearance and personality. Older than James Potter by three years,, this meant an eternity to the cousins, and Louis was twice as much trouble in a blonder package. With large, sparkly blue eyes, a mop of curly, strawberry-blonde hair, and a pair of irresistibly mischievous dimples, the so-called angel could get away with absolutely anything.

Bill walked into the kitchen, wrapping his arms around his wife from behind. "Are you all right?" he asked, his voice muffled, as his face was buried in her hair. "I heard Vic yelling something about playing Wicked Witch."

Bill's concern was not unfounded. Last time Victoire had announced this game, Aunt Audrey had been accidentally turned into gingerbread. The incident had traumatized the already skittish woman, even though the effects had been reversed quickly enough.

"I'm fine," she told her husband, as he nuzzled her neck. "They came up from behind and tried to push me into a cabinet."

"Pretending it was an oven?" Bill chuckled.

Fleur pursed her lips. "George needs to stop encouraging him, or I'll make him sit at the children's table."

"Honeybunny, I never left the kid's table," came a voice from the doorway.

Fleur rolled her eyes at her brother-in-law. " _Obviously_."

"I'm wounded that you implied I could ever leave it," George continued.

"Out, out, out!" Fleur scolded, shooing both men out of the kitchen. "I have work to do!"

"I'll send cooking recruits in soon, don't worry," Bill called, as he released his wife and stepped out of the kitchen. George had already gone. "It's only, everyone's still recovering from the smokebomb Vic, Ted, and Roxanne set off in the garden . . . "

Fleur rolled her eyes and waved a spatula that seemed to have materialized in her hand, menacingly at her husband, and Bill, laughing, made his way out of the sunny kitchen.

Out in the garden, Vic had clambered into the apple tree leaning up against the side of the cottage. Teddy crouched next to her, hidden in the branches, his hair turning the same spicy green as the foliage. They sat, hidden in the thick leaf cover, watching Charlie, Harry, and Arthur set up the tables outside on the lawn.

"These apples are disgusting," Vic announced after a few moments, having taken a bite out of the small, hard, green fruit in a branch besides her. She spat out the sour morsel, giggling when it hit George in the back of the head. He glanced around, confused, then shrugged and walked off.

"I think they have to be red," said Teddy uncertainly.

Vic sulked. "They can be whatever color I want," she announced, screwing up her expression like Teddy did when he changed his appearance. The half-eaten apple in her hand turned a vivid purple color.

Teddy admired the effect, but promptly gave a shriek of horror.

"Your hand!" he whispered.

Vic looked down to find her hand, wrist, and forearm leeched with the purple stain. Instead of being concerned, she laughed good-naturedly and licked her arm.

"Try it," she said, offering her hand to Teddy. "It's grape-flavored."

A moment later, Harry Potter looked up from where he and Charlie were struggling with a folding table that refused to open, only to find his godson and his eldest niece racing through the garden, both bright purple and cackling madly. Everyone turned to stare as the two children raced over to where Roxanne was attempting to steal the petit fours from one of the tables, and Vic tackled her, pushing her to the ground. A moment later she was up again, racing away, and Roxanne watched in delighted fascination as her skin turned purple to match her two cousins. With a gleeful grin, she raced off after Louis, who, with a shriek, bolted off. The other cousins, Kaede, Lucy, Dom, Fred, and James scattered as Teddy and Victoire chased them around the yard, waving their arms and bellowing like erumpents.

"Do we want to know?" Harry asked Charlie, who shook his head vehemently.

Victoire soon became bored after all the little cousins had been infected with the Purple Plague, as Roxanne had taken to shouting at the top of her lungs, and turned towards the grown-ups. Fleur, watching out the kitchen window, laughed until she choked at the sight of eight grown men (Bill, Charlie, George, Percy, Ron, Harry, and Arthur) racing around the yard, attempting to escape the chubby fingers of their assailants.

"Accidental magic is something to watch out for, indeed," said Molly, behind her.

Fleur grimaced. "Knowing Victoire, it wasn't entirely accidental."

"Try it, it's grape flavored!" came a shout from their yard. It had become the widely acknowledged battle cry of the tiny plague.

"I had better go get this under control," Fleur sighed. "Molly, will you watch the bread?"

"Of course, dear," Mrs. Weasley told her. "But bring reinforcements."

"Don't worry, I'm the last one to underestimate my daughter's abilities," Fleur assured the woman, crossing the corridor into the living room, where the Weasley wives and Ginny stood, watching out the window and cheering every time a new Weasley male was tackled.

"Did I miss anything?" Fleur asked.

"Teddy got George, who decided to roll around the yard, tripping up everyone else," Hermione volunteered, chuckling.

"And then James bit Percy in the ankle," said Ginny, with no little pride. "He's screaming like Umbridge faced with centaurs."

"Now Bill and Charlie are trying to climb the oak trees over by the barn," Audrey announced, fiddling with her camera. "Ginny, do I want to know why you want these pictures?"

"Probably not," Ginny admitted.

"Honestly, they're absolutely hopeless," Angelina, rolling her eyes.

Charlie's wife, none other than Cho Chang herself, laughed, her three-month-old baby, Ronin, in her lap. "Someone had better go stop them before all of Britain is infected."

"I was just about to go out and do just that," Fleur told them. "But I'll need some recruits. Ginny, because you're the only person Victoire and Teddy will listen to, and Angelina, because you're the only person _George_ will listen to."

"And, once again, my husband gets cast in with the seven-year-olds," said Angelina dryly, rising to her feet.

Ginny, laughing, followed the two other women out of the house, after handing eight-month-old Albus to Cho, who had passed Ronin to Audrey. After six years, there were no hard feelings between the two women, as Cho and Harry had made it quite clear that their brief relationship had been a humiliating calamity at best.

The three women stepped out into the yard, and Ginny immediately cleared her throat loudly. Teddy, Fleur, and Roxanne, who had been shaking the tree Ron was clinging to, froze and turned around guiltily.

"Teddy Remus Lupin, what are you doing?" Ginny demanded, hands on hips.

"Shaking a tree," Vic said, unabashed.

A terrified Ron twitched slightly at the sound of her voice.

"All of you, and mean _all_ of you, stop it this instance!" Ginny ordered. "And I mean you, _James Sirius Potter_!"

James grinned guiltily, withdrawing his hand from Harry's leg. Harry shrieked in horror, and pawed at the growing purple patch on his leg, only to wail again when he found the purple spreading across his fingers.

"Oh, don't be a baby, Harry," said Ginny, rolling her eyes.

"George, you get up _now_ ," Angelina told him. The very purple George rose to his feet, unabashed, and threw an arm around the distraught Harry's neck.

"Try it, mate," he said. "It's grape-flavored."

Fleur rolled her eyes and turned to Victoire, who looked the very epitome of innocent. "I know you started this, somehow, young lady, or I'm the Queen of England."

"Well, put on your best crown and let's be off to Buckingham Palace, mum," said Vikky cheerfully, throwing an arm around Teddy in the mirror image of George.

"Not funny," Fleur scolded. "Are you honestly doing your best to spend your evening in your room, with, I might add, no petit gâteau to speak of?"

"Non, maman!" said Victoire hastily. "I'll behave, I promise. Je le jure solennellement, I solemnly swear it."

George and his favorite niece exchanged knowing looks.

Molly Weasley appeared at the doorway, balancing a tray of soup bowls, three bread baskets, and several champagne glasses and a bottle with her wand. "You had better have those tables ready for me," she threatened, and the Weasley males blanched and scrambled back to work hastily.

A moment later, the combined efforts of Hermione and Angelina were enough to reverse the effects of the Purple Plague, and the multitude of small cousins were seated around a table propped under the apple tree. Teddy and Victoire both picked all the mushrooms out of their portions of lasagna and fed them to the Delacour-Weasley' dog, Smorgasbord. The part-crup looked a bit like a border collie, but one brown eye and one blue eye, one ear that refused to flop the right way, and shaggy, patchy, and speckly blue-and-white fur coupled with a tongue that was unable to be contained by his mouth, created an adorable clumsy, loveable dog with no control over his own legs.

"It's not fair," Victoire announced loudly. Teddy jumped, sending the despised mushrooms bouncing off his fork into the eagerly awaiting mouth of Smorgasbord, who caught them. He was only coordinated when it came to food.

"What isn't fair, Vikky?" Roxanne asked, eyeing the spider on her water glass curiously.

"Albus and Rosie and baby Ronin get to sit at the big person table, and they're little babies," Vic clarified.

"We need revenge," Roxanne announced. It was often Victoire's solution to everything, and Vic was incredibly infectious.

"You could give Uncle Ron some water," Vic suggested slyly. James banged his fork on the table in agreement.

Giggling, Roxanne snatched up her water glass, spider still attached, and assembled her most doe-eyed expression before darting across the lawn to where the fourteen adults and three babies sat. Roxanne gave Ron her sweetest smile and offered her waterglass to her uncle, who sat between Hermione and Percy's wife, who hadn't taken a sip of champagne all night.

"It'th fow woo, Uncle Won," she told him, emphasizing the slight lisp caused by the gap where her two front teeth were missing. Angelina watched her daughter suspiciously, as it wasn't like Roxanne to use baby-talk unless she was up to something.

Ron, oblivious, however, smiled at his niece and took the glass from her hand.

"Thanks, Roxy," he told her.

"You're super welcome!" she said, the lisp vanishing as she darted back to the table. Angelina bit her lip in thought.

Ron tipped back the glass for a drink, but froze at the sight of the large, hairy spider dangling in front of his nose. For a moment, all was still, then Ron screamed, high-pitched and long-lasting, tumbling backwards over his chair and onto the lawn, the glass with the spider spinning out over the table and hitting the champagne bottle, which shattered, spraying the liquid out over the tablecloth. Ron grappled with something invisible for a moment, then crawled away, whimpering.

Over by the apple tree, the little cousins where having muffled hysterics. Rose, in a very disapproving Hermione's lap, flapped her arms and giggled at the sight of her father. Angelina rolled her eyes and took as sip of her champagne, while George applauded slowly and then stood, taking his plate with him.

"Where are you going?" Ginny asked, ignoring her brother's antics.

"I'm off to the kid's table, ma'am," said George, with a mock bow. "It seems to be a _very_ interesting place."

"Well, don't take any champagne with you," said Angelina dryly.

George ambled over to the apple tree, where his daughter and his brother-in-law's godson scooted aside to make room for him on the bench. Vic scraped her mushrooms onto his plate, much to Smorgasbord's dismay.

Ron seemed to have recovered by that point, and, taking a shaky seat next to his wife, gave everyone a weak smile. Hermione rolled her eyes and handed him Rose, then helped Molly and Bill clear up the spilled champagne.

Percy cleared his throat nervously, when everyone was back in their seats. His wife, who had a sweet, heart-shaped face and mousy-brown hair, nodded for him to continue.

"We, that is, Audrey and I, we have an announcement to make," said Percy loudly. Heads turned in his direction. George craned around in his seat uncomfortably, his knees crammed under the tiny table.

"We, um, Audrey is, well. That is . . ." Percy stopped, looking embarrassed.

"Percy and I would like to announce a new member of our family," said Audrey, smiling at her husband.

Molly Weasley burst into tears, as she always did at the birth or announcement of a grandchild, and squeezed both a bashful-looking Percy and a smiling Audrey into an enormous hug. When she finally pulled away, she was wiping her eyes, and the couple were soon bombarded with congratulations and hugs.

"Do you know if it'll be a boy or a girl yet?" asked Angelina, giving Audrey a hug.

"A girl," Audrey said, her eyes watery. "We're going to call her Molly."

After this announcement, and a fresh round of sobs from Mrs. Weasley, the table descended into whole-hearted chaos, so no-one noticed the fact that Roxanne, Teddy, and Victoire were missing from the children's table. Kaede and Louis were wrestling each other over the last roll, and the resulting foodfight was enough to distract anyone. Lucy rubbed mashed potato in James's hair, and James tripped Kaede and sent him flying into a bowl of custard, Louis bellowed happily as he threw lasagna at Fred, and Fred stood back and pelted everyone with carrots while Dominique covered her head with her hands and kicked at anyone who came close to her and looked like they might be holding a bowl of peas, which she abhorred.

In hindsight, they should have noticed Vic, Roxanne, and Teddy's conspicuous absence from the foodfight, but as a confused looking Charlie was set to watch Rose, Albus, and Ronin on a picnic blanket while their mothers pulled their various children off of their cousins, no-one noticed their absence until much later, when Fleur demanded to know where Victoire was.

They found the threesome on the roof, along with a platter of petit fours and Cho's camera. (She was a photographer for the Daily Prophet.) All three were cackling madly over the foodfight pictures, but threw a small fit when the blackmail material was confiscated and Ron accused them of being too much like Ginny.

The evening soon drew to a close, with Teddy kicking and dragging his feet as his grandmother, Andromeda, hauled him off back to her home. Roxanne would have behaved much the same way, despite being the one labeled 'mature' out of the three, but her mother had given the go-ahead' for her children to have a sleepover with the Delacour-Weasleys, so Roxanne and Victoire waved goodbye to a morose Teddy as he and his grandmother stepped into the Floo.

The rest of the families were soon gone, and, with Bill kissing his wife goodnight and finishing up the dishes.

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 **Next Chapter:**

'Victoi **R** e brandished the mail in her mother's face. Confus **E** d, Fleur sorted through the stack. "George's catalogue, the Daily Prophet, a **V** _ery_ large bill for the Floo, _another_ one of George's catalogues, as **I** f we didn't already know his entire stock by heart, a l **E** tter from Angelina, asking us to babysit George for the **W** eekend, and . . . . mon Dieu! Your Hogwarts letter!"'

Listen to the story, folks!

-CritterCat


	2. Chapter One

**Disclaimer** :It all belongs to J. K. Rowling.

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The sun rose on another day. A bedroom that had once been lined with pink rosebud wallpaper, strewn with bright outfits and bookshelves overflowing with picture books and trinkets, was now icy blue, the curtains billowing from the window seat looking out over the sea a lacy white. The pictures on the walls and on the bedside table were much the same; a few remained unchanged, and most of them of a lovely flyaway-haired blonde girl, usually wearing a Muggle baseball cap on backwards, hands in the belt loops of her jeans, a sheepishly friendly boy with bright, turquoise hair and an ill-fitting camo jacket, and a girl with chocolate-colored skin and hair woven into tiny braids, the ends adorned with red-painted wooden beads, often appearing in a red t-shirt.

But, over the years, the focuses of these pictures had grown older. The picture on the bedside table, next to that of the three children standing in front of a shop emblazoned with the letters 'WEASLEY'S WIZARD WHEEZES,' was another photo, with a tarnished metal frame, depicting a small family. The blonde girl from the photos stood with her arm companionably tossed around a younger girl's neck, who had the same bright blue eyes but paler blonde hair, and was ruffling the hair of the boy beside her, who had freckles, a crooked grin, and two very wicked dimples. Behind them, a woman with the younger girl's icy hair was smiling, her arm around the waist of a man with red hair down to his shoulders and a dragon-tooth earring, whose own arm was wrapped around her shoulders.

A door slammed, and footsteps on the stairs could be heard, louder and closer, then a shout "Maman! Maman! Ma lettre de Hogwarts est arrivée!" A door was slammed open, than another. " _Maman_!"

"Out here, _mon chéri_ ," came a voice from outside, drifting up on the wind.

Victoire Weasley sped back down the stairs and out into the garden, where her mother was kneeling in the dirt, a shovel in one hand and a bucket of potatoes by her knee. Her long blonde hair was tied back in a scarf, and she slipped off her gardening gloves as Victoire launched herself at her mother and wrapped her in a hug.

Fleur, surprised at this unexpected show of affection, wrapped her arms around her eldest daughter. 'What is it, _chéri_?"

Victoire began to babbles in a mixture of English and French, and her mother laughed softly. "Calm down. Speak one language for the moment _, chéri_."

Victoire brandished the mail in her mother's face. Confused, Fleur sorted through the stack. "George's catalogue, the Daily Prophet, a _very_ large bill for the Floo, _another_ one of George's catalogues, as if we didn't already know his entire stock by heart, a letter from Angelina, asking us to babysit George for the weekend, and . . . . mon Dieu! Your Hogwarts letter!"

Fleur embraced her daughter. "That's wonderful, _chéri_ , and, of course, there was never any doubt at all."

Vic smirked slightly. " _Obviously_."

"But still . . . oh, ma petite chouette! Your Hogwarts letter! Such a big event, my darling. I remember when I received my letter from Beauxbatons . . . the best school in Europe . . . " Fleur eyed her daughter.

Vic rolled her eyes. "Oh, _Maman_ , I'm going to Hogwarts, like Teddy and Roxanne and all la famille Weasley!"

Fleur sighed. "Ah, _oui_. I know. Perhaps Dominique will want to go to Beauxbatons?" she eyed her eldest daughter hopefully.

"Maman, Dom was born for black and yellow," Victoire giggled. "Perhaps your grandchildren shall go to Beauxbatons."

"Ah, we can only hope," said Fleur dramatically, then rose to her feet to give her daughter another hug. "Let us go celebrate! Off to school in no time at all, mon bébé." She hugged Victoire again, only _slightly_ teary-eyed.

Vic was starting into the house ahead of her mother when the Floo flared out and Roxanne tumbled out onto the carpet. One look at Victoire, her letter in hand, and Roxanne had her arms wrapped around her cousin and both were babbling excitedly. Roxanne produced her Hogwarts letter and both were squealing (not that they'd ever admit it) when Bill walked into the house, right behind Fleur.

"What's going on?" he asked, as Fleur kissed him on the cheek.

"They just got their Hogwarts letters," Fleur told him, taking his hand in her own, smaller one.

Dominique and Louis walked in, arguing, both in swimsuits and carrying surfboards. Dominique was ten, her platinum-blonde hair cut into a short, bouncy bob and pulled out of her face with a pink clip, and Louis was nine, with a mop of golden curls almost as long as Dominique's.

They stopped when they saw the spectacle before them. Roxanne and Victoire released each other, both barely able to contain their enthusiasm, as the two siblings dripped puddles on the floor. Bill folded his arms grumpily. It was his turn to mop.

"What the bloody hell happened?' Louis asked, setting his surfboard against the wall.

"Language, Louis Arthur Weasley," said Fleur sternly. Louis grinned in a manner altogether too much like his Uncle George.

"We just got our Hogwarts letters!" Victoire announced, beaming happily.

Dominique squealed and threw her arms around her sister. "Oh that's wonderful! Oh, ça va être fantastique, je ne peux pas attendre jusqu'à ce que je parte—" she began to babble in French.

Roxanne gave her a confused look. After growing up surrounded by French-speaking peers, she had a small understanding of the language, but Dom's rapid-fire French was difficult for even Victoire to understand.

"She says that it's going to be fantastic, she can't wait until she can go," Fleur translated easily. "Now, release your sister before she suffocates, darling."

Dom pulled away, beaming, and Victoire ruffled her younger sister's ruler-straight hair with one arm, tossing the other over Roxanne's shoulder and beaming at her parents.

"I can't wait," Roxanne sighed. "Quidditch and wandwork and moving staircases . . . . "

"And the Whomping Willow and the Forbidden Forest and the Chamber of Secrets," Vic added enthusiastically, then caught sight of her mother's expression and hastily added "Oh, from a distance of course."

"I for one am most excited about Care of Magical Creatures," Dom piped up happily.

"Quidditch and secret passages," grinned Louis.

"You two are so lucky," Dom finished with a sigh. "I still have another year."

"Two, for me," added Louis grumpily. "But, at least I'm older than James, by three whole years!" he grinned.

"What a great victory for you, dear brother," said Victoire, rolling her eyes.

"Don't be mean," Fleur admonished both of them, but Louis was already skipping back out the open door, grabbing his surfboard as he went. "Hey, Dom, Roxy, Vic, you guys coming?"

"We have to tell Teddy," Vic called. "But he'll want to swim, too, so we'll be back."

Vic and Roxanne turned to Bill and Fleur, pleading expressions on their faces.

"Yes, you can Floo over to Dromeda's," Fleur sighed. "But come right back and don't stop at any strange fireplaces—"

"Yes!" Roxanne and Victoire punched the air gleefully.

"—and remember to enunciate—" Fleur called, but the two had already gone in a whoosh of flames and a joyful shout of "The Tonks Residence!"

Bill shook his head, chuckling, and wrapping an arm around his wife. She nestled into his side, and the two walked out into the garden, side by side.

Roxanne, then Vic, stumbled out into the living room of Teddy's home, brandishing their letters. Andromeda was reading the Daily Prohet in a chintz armchair near the fire. "Grandy, Grandy, look!" Vic cried, throwing her arms around the older woman. The Weasley cousins' name for her was a combinations of 'granny' and her nickname, 'Andy.' "We got our letters!"

"Ooh, look at that, will you!" Andromeda cooed. "Oh, aren't you so grown-up!"

Vic and Roxanne tolerated this fussing and praising for a few more minutes before Teddy Lupin walked into the room. Vic hurled herself at her friend, then began to babble excitedly in his ear. Half of it was French, and Roxanne bit back a laugh as she was reminded of Dominique's similar antics a few moments before. Teddy raised a blue eyebrow over Victoire's shoulder. It wasn't like her to gush like this.

Roxanne wordlessly held up her Hogwarts letter. Teddy's eyes widened, and his hair turned canary yellow in surprise.

"Hey, that's awesome!" he said, pumping his fist in the air. "Finally! Now you guys'll be at Hogwarts with me. You gotta be in Gryffindor," he added, brow furrowed.

"I don't know," said Roxanne slyly, tapping her chin. "Ravenclaw sounds pretty cool."

"Slytherin can't be all bad," Vic added, smirking, as she pulled away, her mood suddenly changing.

"No!" Teddy declared. "You can't! I mean, you have to . . . I mean, please ask for Gryffindor?"

"Maybe," Vic considered.

"We'll have to think about it," Roxanne mused.

Andromeda rolled her eyes. "Edward, they're only joking. Now, run along, you three. I'm not having you all in my home for extended periods of time, lest I leave for the loo and come back to find my living room floor's been melted into goo."

"It was only that once, Grandy," said Vic innocently.

Andromeda shook her head. "Shoo!" she commanded, tossing a pinch of Floo powder on the fire.

A moment later, Vic, Roxanne, and Teddy were in the Delacour-Weasleys' living room. A brief trip for bathing suits (every Weasley or Potter family member had a bathing suit stashed in the cottage, in case of a very likely impromptu swim) and all three were racing each other across the lawn, towels thrown over their shoulders. Roxanne, predictably, had selected a poppy-red towel. Roxanne's favorite color was red, and it shown in everything from the wooden beads in her braids to the friendship bracelet on her ankle that matched Vic's green one and Teddy's blue one. For the brief period of time last summer where she had had to wear braces (by order of Rose and Hugo's grandparents, the Grangers) she had been vaguely comforted by the fact that the bands had come in red, too.

Bare feet padded across the ground, but they slowed when they reached the narrow steps cut into the cliff. Three years before, when Dominique was seven, she had slipped down the stairs and broken her arm. Now they were wet, from Louis and Dom dripping up and down them, so the three went slowly and carefully down the steps, however uncharacteristic of them it was.

Dominique and Louis were on the beach, Dom in a purple one-piece with white flowers and a matching surfboard, and Louis in a blue-and-white pair of swim trunks, and both were arguing heatedly. Hufflepuff Dom may have been, but conceding she was not, and it was surprising the number of times the normally sweet and sensible girl got into arguments over her own stubbornness, and, most of all, other people's.

"What is it now, you two?" asked Roxanne, her bathing suit predictably red. She spread her towel out on the sand and leaned back, resting the back of her head on her arms.

"Dom says I tried to push her off her board," said Louis, managing, by some unheard-of miracle, to make the claim sound unfounded and ridiculous.

"You did!" said Dom angrily. "You came right up behind me and shoved me—"

"Honestly, Domi, can you sound any more paranoid?" Louis asked easily.

"Guys, guys," said Vic calmly, in a green-and-silver bathing suit that had practically made her father's head implode when he saw it. (Its exact purpose.) "Why can't you, Louis, admit to pushing Dom off her board, we all know you did it, anyway, and Dom, how about you admit that you were annoying enough to deserve to be pushed off your board?"

"I object to that!" Dom cried out. Louis opened his mouth, probably to agree with his sister for once, but Teddy, ever the mediator, stepped in.

"Now, how about we just do something nice, like build a sandcastle or something?" he suggested.

Victoire flipped her mane of curly blonde hair over her shoulder. "We aren't five, Teddy dear."

Teddy blushed, but Victoire socked him in the arm to indicate that she was only joking.

"And I thought it was only males who felt the urges to express affection with untamed and uncalled for minor acts of companionable violence," Roxanne commented dryly, a book in hand. Where it had come from, it was hard to say. Roxanne had access to a book at all times.

"I have a better idea," said Victoire with a wicked grin on her face. "Mum will want to throw a party for Roxanne and I, because we got our Hogwarts letters. so let's dig a trap for Uncle Percy!"

"I love you, Victoire," said Louis, hand over his heart. "You're brilliant!"

" _Obviously_."

Roxanne peered over the edge of her book a few minutes later to find Dom, Louis, and Victoire already knee-deep in the sand. Teddy had somehow ended up half-buried in sand, his blue swimming trunks peeking out from under a mound of white sand, and was unable to free himself due to the fact that Victoire was perched on his stomach.

Roxanne bit back a chortle at the look on his face.

"Louis put sand in my hair!" Dominique announced angrily. Louis rolled his eyes.

"It's called digging, sweetie," he said. "It happens."

"Now, now, you two," said Victoire, nagging a finger in an excellent impression of the Weasley cousins' ancient Great-Great-Aunt Muriel, who was a hundred and eighteen.

"Now, now, you three," said Roxanne, giggling as Dom and Louis tackled their sister to the sand. Teddy took the opportunity to shake off the sand and flee, and with a shout of dismay, the warring siblings united to chase the Metamorphmagus down the sand at top speeds. Teddy was extremely fast and it was doubtful that he would have been caught, had he not made the mistake of stepping on Roxanne as he rushed past her. Taking care to put her book down respectfully, Roxanne rose to her feet, and in a moment the long-legged Weasley girl had Teddy sprawling in the sand.

What resulted was a sand fight of epic proportions, until it was moved into the water and Teddy morphed his hands into fused flippers to slough water at his opponents, until Vic, who, as, a part-Veela, could hold her breath for much longer than seemed possible, dove underwater and yanked his feet out from underneath him.

Ginny and Fleur, sitting in the dining room of Shell Cottage, watched the chaos contentedly,

"When all three hit Hogwarts, things are going to explode,' Ginny remarked, her fingers wrapped around her cup of tea. Lily, who had turned two earlier in the month, snatched and played with the buttons on her mother's sweater.

"Literally," Fleur agreed. "You know," she said, watching as Victoire climbed onto Teddy's shoulders and tried to shove his face into the water. "They would make a very cute couple, as you say."

Ginny smirked into her mug. "Absolutely."

"Snake!" Lily giggled. "Snaaaake!"

"Hush!' Ginny pouted. "She won't stop it with the snakes. It's got Harry panicking that she'll be put in Slytherin."

Below them, Teddy managed to hurl Victoire off of him by dunking her in the sand and proceeding to tickle her while she beat at his chest, giggling helplessly.

* * *

Victoire kicked blindly at the monster that had seen fit to disturb her sleep.

"Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty," came the absurdly cheerful voice from beside her. "Time to get up, up, up!"

"I hate you," Victoire mumbled, pulling the coverlet over her head.

"No, you don't," said the evil, evil thing, poking her in her ribs. "But you will if I kiss you to wake you up, so, up and at 'em!"

There was a long pause, in which Victoire tightened her grip on her blanket.

"Come _on_ ," came the voice again. "We have to go now or we won't have very long at Diagon Alley before everyone has to finish up prepping for our party this afternoon, hon."

Victoire shot upright, sending Roxanne flying off of her bed. "Why didn't you say so sooner?" she demanded, scrambling out of bed, to run a brush through her hair, tie it back in a braid, pull on a pair of jeans and a green-and-golf Holyhead Harpies t-shirt. Cramming her favorite Muggle baseball cap on her head and pulling on a pair of mismatched socks that, for some reason, her Uncle Harry called 'Dobbies,' she slipped on her green friendship anklet. In less than three minutes, she was ready, while Roxanne was still rubbing her head and swearing under her breath.

"Let's go!" Victoire declared, slinging her satchel over her shoulder and staring for the door, Roxanne following, muttering.

In the kitchen, alternately sleepy and excited, a bleary-eyed Dominique and a bright-eyed Louis were crowded around the kitchen table, along with Bill, Fleur, Fred II, George, Angelina, Teddy, Ginny, James, Albus, little Lily, and a very lost-looking Neville Longbottom.

"Uncle Neville, what are you doing here?" Victoire asked, giving her cousin Hugo's godfather a hug.

"Well, I don't really know," the Herbology Professor sighed. "Hermione said she had a friend who had an interesting specimen of a _mordaci distrinxprimula_ to show me—" he caught sight of the uncomprehending faces and added "oh, that means a biting daisy. Anyways, she told me that she couldn't pick it up until she finished her paperwork for the upcoming Ministry Ball, because, as Minister, she's very involved, so she told me to go along and visit Ginny for a while until she was done, so I didn't have to go all the way to Hogwarts and back, but when I arrived, Ginny was bundling everyone out the door and I kinda got swept up in it. I don't think she even realized I was there," he added.

"Sorry," said Ginny sheepishly. "James had stuck himself to the ceiling accidentally during his tantrum regarding the fact that I wasn't going to get him his own broom until second year. Harry's at work, and it was a little stressful."

The six-year old grinned, not seeming sorry at all.

"Shall we move on?" Fleur asked, checking the clock on the windowsill. "We have a bit of a short window of time before we have dinner here, on the beach." She turned to Neville. "You, Hannah, and the kids can make it, can't you? We're celebrating your next round of Weasley students."

"You'd better be able to make it," said Ginny narrowing her eyes. "You can make it, right?'

"Of course," said Neville hastily.

"Splendid!" Ginny beamed. "Now, let's get going. We want to beat the rush at Ollivander's."

After the war, the original Ollivander had passed his wand making business down to his nephew, Owen Ollivander. The nephew was no shame to the Ollivander name, even introducing the now extremely popular line of palmwood wands, something unheard of in Garrick Ollivander's day.

"I want an Original Ollivander wand," Victoire told Roxanne, but Angelina overheard.

"There aren't many left, sweetie," she told her niece. "And the wand chooses the wizard."

"I know," Victoire sighed. "It'd be nice, that's all." Original Ollivander wands were those made by Garrick Ollivander himself, when he was still in the business.

"Let's go, now," said Fleur, hustling everyone towards the fireplace. A Floo for each later, Lily in her mother's arms, they were standing in the Leaky Cauldron. The barman, who never seemed to age a day, gave them a toothless smile and turned back to cleaning glasses as Ginny, Fleur, and Angelina shooed everyone towards the entrance to Diagon Alley and out among the vividly colored sight of the wizarding shops.

"Where first?" Louis asked happily.

"Flourish and Blotts," said Roxanne.

"Ollivanders," Vic said, at the same time.

"All right," Roxanne conceded. "I really want my wand, anyway."

The fourteen of them hustled their way through the street, but it soon became clear that it was going to become nearly impossible to navigate such a large group through the crowd. After several failed attempts at organization, Victoire suggested that Fleur, Angelina, and Ginny take Roxanne, Victoire and Teddy into Ollivanders', while Bill, George, and Neville took Louis, Dominique, Fred, James, Albus, and Lily to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, then meet up later at Shell Cottage for the evening.

The children readily agreed, and, although the grown-ups blanched at the thought of two children to each of them, they reluctantly agreed it was the best course of action.

When the six children and three grown-ups were hustled away towards George's shop, the rest of the group made their way through the bustling avenue bright with fine robes and signs announcing 'Slug and Jiggers Apothecary' and 'Potage's Cauldron Shop.' The three children drank everything in greedily, as it was rare they were allowed to go into Diagon Alley themselves, usually just popping into George's Floo when visiting the shop.

"There!" Victoire cried, pointing to a small, dusty shop wedged between Twilfitt and Tattings and a boarded-up joke shop. Weasley's Wizard Wheezes had put many a joke shop out of business over the years. The wand shop had two large, turret-like windows out front with gilded letters spelling OLLIVANDERS over each.

Roxanne bit down on the heel of her hand, a nervous habit that she hadn't done since she was small. "I can't wait!"

"Neither can I," Victoire breathed. Teddy grinned. The year before, he had received his own wand—pear wood with unicorn hair core. Victoire had decided this was _entirely_ unfair, so she had refused to speak to him. At least, until she forgot all about being mad and tried to convince him to use his brand-new wand to set Uncle Percy's hair on fire.

Victoire pushed open the door and stepped into the dark, dusty shop, the hinges squealing and the floorboards creaking ominously under her feet. This had served to sufficiently intimidate generations upon generations of brand-new Hogwarts students and parents alike, but not Victoire.

"Coo-eee Mr. Ollivander! We've come for our wands! MR. OLLIVANDER!"  
The ancient wandmaker's nephew scrambled out from behind a stack of empty wand boxes. He was short, with scruffy, graying hair that was balding at the top, spindly spectacles, and a paint-stained piece of white cloth tucked into the bib of his overalls. He gave the newcomers a nervous, well-meaning smile.

"How can I help you? Er, Mrs. and Mrs. and Miss and Miss Weasley and Mrs. Potter and Mr. Lupin?" the man gave a little tremble. "Ah, yes. Mr. Lupin. Pear wood and unicorn hair, 13 ¾ inches, pliant."

"Yes, sir," said Teddy gravely. Vic elbowed him.

"I mean, whatever," he said hastily. Victoire was always telling him to, quote 'not be so uptight, Teddy dear.'

Owen's fuzzy gray eyebrows, resembling furry caterpillars, rose on his forehead, but he didn't say anything more, only squinted at Victoire and Roxanne.

"Are these my little customers?" he asked Angelina. "New Hogwarts students, I presume?"

"Yes, and we can talk, too," said Roxanne, smiling brightly.

"Yes, yes of course," Owen mumbled. "Obviously. Ah. Yes. Jolly good. Here we are."

He took a wand box off the shelf behind him and handed it to Victoire. "Palmwood and unicorn hair. Quite exotic. 12 ⅛ inches, surprisingly swishy. Try it."

"I'm not using anything with little hearts carved into the handle," said Victoire coldly, examining the wand.

"Ah. Yes. Narrows it down a bit, I should think,' said Owen, not appearing to be joking. "Miss . . . "

"Victoire," said Victoire. "And this is Roxanne."

"Ah, Miss Roxanne," Owen smiled at her, but it appeared to be more of a grimace. "Would you, by any chance . . . "

"No hearts," said Roxanne firmly.

"Ah, yes. Quite," said Owen disappointedly. "There was another young lady in here earlier, wanted flowers and rainbows. Miss Boot, I think she said."

"I remember Lavender Brown from Hogwarts," said Ginny grimly. "It seems her tastes have been passed on to her daughter."

"Magenta is a horrible name for a child," said Angelina. Fleur nodded in agreement.

"Anyway, back to business," said Owen nervously. "Ah. Miss Roxanne. Try this. Holly and unicorn hair. Quite bendy. Give it wave, there's a good girl."

Roxanne examined the wand suspiciously, but, finding no hearts, rainbows, or flowers, she gave it a swish. Instantly, several boxes of wands, including the ladder that could be rolled along the shelves, came crashing to the floor.

A moment later, Owen peeked out from behind the counter, pushing his spectacles back up his nose. "Perhaps not that one, dearie. There, put it down."

Owen rummaged for a moment among the fallen wand, then emerged, smiling. "Ah, here we are. Miss Weasley. Ahem. Miss Victoire. Cedar and phoenix feather core. Surprisingly swishy. Try it."

Victoire scrutinized the wand, then gave it a wave. The candles all exploded, plastering the wall behind the counter with molten wax. Owen had dived for cover, and now he stood, wiping wax from his spectacles.

"Ah. I think perhaps not. Miss Weasley, I mean, Miss Roseanne—"

"Roxanne," Roxanne said loudly. Owen flinched.

"Ah, yes. Miss Roxanne. Of course." He picked a wand from the stack and handed it to the girl. "Fir and dragon heartstring. Pliant. Give a swish, dearie."

This time, the books on fine wand making, lined up on the shelf at the back of the room, came flying forward between the narrow shelves and hurled themselves at Owen's head. He ducked.

"Maybe not. There we are. Miss Weasley. No, not you, dearie, Miss Victoire. Cherry and unicorn hair. Surprisingly swishy. A wave, dearie, give it a little swish."

Victoire complied, and the glass in the windows shattered out into the street. There were screams, and a small stampede as everyone rushed to safety.

"Er, just as well," Owen admitted. "It has flowers on the handle."

Victoire tossed the wand back onto the counter in outrage.

They went through at least ten different wands that day. Finally, after a small explosion that had singed off Owen Ollivander's caterpillar eyebrows when a hawthorn and phoenix wand rejected Victoire rather violently, Owen suggested his two customers come into the back room and take a look at the Original Ollivander wands. Victoire and Roxanne nodded eagerly, and Ginny, Angelina, and Fleur agreed.

Owen lead the two girls through the back and into a small room, lined with ornate shelves and wands in wooden boxes. Seating himself behind a desk, he licked the tips of his fingers and began to flick through as stack of parchment he had produced from a drawer, while the pair of customers stood around awkwardly, eyeing the gilded shelves, stacked with wooden wand boxes.

"Ah, here we are. Miss Roxanne." Owen drew a sheet from the pile, his spectacles slipping down his nose. "I think this would do quite nicely, don't you?" He scanned the parchment carefully. "Yes. Quite."

Raising his own wand, he non-verbally summoned a single box from the shelves on the right, and handed it to Roxanne. Inside, placed in a nest of black velvet, was a slender wand, almost reddish in hue, completely smooth except for a slender grip that fit perfectly into Roxanne's hand, the knobs and bumps in the wood almost molded against her skin.

"Yes," said Owen, watching her closely. "Black walnut and phoenix feather, 10 inches _precisely_. Unyielding. You are a very precise young woman, are you not?"

"Definitely," said Roxanne, with a grin.

"Very good. Give us a swish, dearest."

Roxanne waved the wand, and there was a small cascade of red sparks from the tip, landing in the carpet and sizzling. Roxanne gaped at it, as if she had felt the power flowing through her fingertips and into the wand itself.

"Very good, very good, Miss Roxanne,' said Owen, clapping happily. "Now, Miss Victoire."

Victoire, who had been clapping Roxanne on the back, looked up to find Owen holding out another wand box. "This would be quite suitable, I should think, my dear," he told her.

Victoire took the wand box, opening it to find, in a mold of black velvet, just like Roxanne's walnut wand, a wand slightly longer than Roxanne's, with a rough-cut handle that fit snugly against her palm. The wand's 'blade' was sleek, and cool to the touch. She grinned at Owen.

"Very good, Miss Weasley. Ahem. Miss Victoire. This is hazelwood, with dragon heartstring core. 11 ½ inches. Unyielding. You do not bend for anyone, do you, Miss Weasley?" Owen asked.

"Nope," said Victoire with a grin.

"Quite. Now, a swish, if you will."

Victoire waved the hazelwood wand, and, with a bang and a flash, a shower of violet-colored sparks burst out of the tip.

"Very good, Miss and Miss Weasley," said Owen, clapping again. "I do like tricky customers, and I think you'll be very well suited to these particular wands, my dears. Now, let me give you a few words of advice about your wands," he continued, placing them into their boxes and handing them back to their particular owners. Victoire gave into a rare moment of untamed squealing and hugged her wand to her chest.

'Miss Roxanne." Owen beckoned her closer. "Walnut wands are known to be completely loyal to their master, and, once won, will perform any task their wielder desires. Now, while that may be useful, beware, as it makes a lethal weapon in the hands of wizards and witches without morals."

Roxanne nodded.

"Good. Now," Owen continued. "Also know that walnut wand are best suited to highly intelligent, brilliant spellcasters, often possessed by inventors, those who explore the realms of magic and create their own ways of navigating through it."

Roxanne blushed. "I actually . . . well, it's always sounded very interesting to me."

Victoire nodded. "Yes, she's always wanted to invent her own spells and things."

"Now, Miss Victoire," said Owen, turning his owlish gaze on her. "Hazel wands are quite aware and often reflect on their owner's emotional state, and it often shall absorb energy if the master of the wand has recently lost their temper, and shall often expel it onto whoever next picks up the wand and does not own it. However, it is often quite powerful in the hands of the skillful, and entirely devoted to the one master. So much, in fact, that it often 'dies,' or releases its magic after the owner's death. They also have the ability to sense water underground, and will emmett puffs of smoke near water sources."

"Okay," said Victoire.

"Go along now, and tell your family you've found your wands."

Victoire and Roxanne obeyed, rushing from the room and babbling excitedly to their mothers, Ginny, and Teddy. Teddy ruffled Victoire's hair in congratulations, causing Victoire to poke him in the stomach. Roxanne stood next the two and rolled her eyes at their antics, causing both Victoire and Teddy to poke her. The resulting tussle lasted until Angelina and Fleur had returned, having paid for the wands, and ushered the children out into the street.

* * *

 **Next Chapter:**

'"You don't think . . . " Ginny's eyes were wide, and she tu **R** ned to Ang **E** lina. "You don't think . . . . "

"I hope not," Angelina said, frowning. "But it does seem **V** ery likely . . . "

"What? What? What is it?" V **I** c demanded impati **E** ntly.

"The last time a dubious writer had complete control over a booklist at Hogwarts, **W** ell. . . " Ginny trailed off.

"Nevermind," said Angelina hastily. "It's probably nothing."'

The story knows all! Find the answer and follow the trail . . .

CritterCat


	3. Chapter Two

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter is the property of J. K. Rowling.

* * *

"Let's go to Flourish and Blotts next," Roxanne said happily, pulling out her booklist. "Okay, we're going to need the Standard Book of Spells, Year One, by Miranda Goshawk, then Fantastic Beast and Where to Find Them . . . ooh, it's by Newt Scamander! Like Lorcan and Lysander?"

"Their great-grandfather," Angelina told them. "He's promised us signed copies of the book, so we won't need to get that."

"How old _is_ he?" Roxanne asked in wonder. "As old as Auntie Muriel?"

"Not quite," said Fleur, smiling slightly. "He's a hundred and fourteen."

"Well, I suppose Auntie Muriel has four years on him," Teddy chuckled. "What else is on the booklist, Roxy?"

"A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch, a History of Magic, by Bathilda Bagshot, Magical Theory, by Adalbert Waffling, One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, by Phyllida Spore, Magical Drafts and Potions, by Arsenius Jigger, and . . . oh, no." Roxanne stopped short.

"What?" Victoire demanded.

"The Chosen One: A Guide To The Life Of Harry Potter," Roxanne groaned. "By Rita Skeeter—"

"WHAT?" Victoire screeched. Several people turned to stare, but she brushed them off. "Why on earth would anyone in their right mind buy, let alone assign that book to impressionable students? Uncle Harry said it was a load of manure about he was some sort of god on earth, and it basically made the Dursleys out to be these evil, abusive monsters. And the so-called exclusive interview never happened! He'd never talk to that woman!"

"There's more," said Roxanne grimly. "Dark Arts: Malicious or Misunderstood? By Rita Skeeter, Merlin: Man or Monster, by Rita Skeeter, and Dark Figures in Wizarding History: A Young Student's Companion, by . . . "

"Rita Skeeter," Victoire groaned, head in hands. Teddy, who had snatched out his booklist, groaned along with her.

"Mine is exactly the same, except without the books I already have, and I've got a Standard Book of Spells, Year Two."

Ginny and Angelina looked, if possible even more horrified than Vic, Teddy, and Roxanne were.

"You don't think . . . " Ginny's eyes were wide, and she turned to Angelina. "You don't think . . . . "

"I hope not," Angelina said, frowning. "But it does seem very likely . . . "

"What? What? What is it?" Vic demanded impatiently.

"The last time a dubious writer had complete control over a booklist at Hogwarts . . . " Ginny trailed off.

"Nevermind," said Angelina hastily. "It's probably nothing."

Fleur eyed them suspiciously, but said nothing.

"Well, I'm certainly not looking forward to a year of DADA taught by a Skeeter fanatic," said Victoire grimly.

"Neither am I," said Teddy, in much the same tone.

"We're here!" said Roxanne happily. They were standing outside Flourish and Blotts, its windows filled with warm light, and stacked with old tomes and grimoires. The door was propped open onto the street, letting out a long line of students and parents, each looking impatient and frustrated. One toddler had fallen asleep on her father's shoulder.

"Crap," said ginny. "These people look like they've been here for awhile."

"Well, I'm not standing in line," Victoire announced. "Roxy, get ready for operation C 3B-8."

"That one?" said Roxanne doubtfully. "It's not too original."

"But it's quite effective," Victoire grinned. "Three, two, one . . . "

"ROGER!" she yelled. "Roger! Where did you go?"

Several people turned to stare.

"Roger!" Roxanne yelled, copying her cousin.

"Who's Roger?" asked the man with the sleeping toddler.

"My little brother," said Victoire tearfully. "He wandered off, and I think he may have gone into the store."

More people were turning around now, watching Roxanne, who was still yelling "Roger!" every few minutes.

"You'd better go in," said a woman near the front of the line. "Come to think of it, I might have seen a little boy go in a moment ago . . . " she trailed off, looking thoughtful.

"The power of suggestion," Roxanne whispered to Teddy.

The line parted to let Victoire, Teddy, Roxanne, Ginny, Angelina, and Fleur into the store, and they walked quickly past, thanking the woman who had spoken up and trying to look concerned.

Inside, it was no less crowded. The balcony around the back of the shop was packed, too, and there was barely any room to pass between the bookshelves. The Hogwarts letters had just gone out the day before, after all, and first, second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh years alike were crowded into the shop, along with their parents and siblings.

Roxanne, who was claustrophobic, began to breath rather shallowly, and Angelina excused the two of them to the bathroom to give Roxanne a moment to calm down. Teddy and Victoire elbowed their way through the crowd, towards the display with the Hogwarts booklist. Several boys a year or two older than Teddy were grouped around the stacks, but, after one quick glare from Victoire, they dispersed quickly. Victoire snatched two copies of each book, one for her and one for Roxanne, then made a face as she turned towards the stack of Rita Skeeter's works. Teddy, who had grabbed A Standard Book of Spells, Year Two, appeared at her elbow.

"We have to, it's a requirement," he told her.

"I know, it doesn't make it any less disgusting," Victoire sniffed, picking up _Dark Figures in Wizarding History: A Young Student's Companion_. "It has bunnies on it." She glared at the cover. "Voldemort has a bowtie."

"It looks like it's for six-year-olds," Teddy noted. "Why does it look like it's for six-year-olds?"

"James would see right through this," Victoire replied. "It looks like it was written by someone who thinks six-year-olds are stupid. Or just gullible."

"Yeah," Teddy said morosely, slipping a copy of it onto his stack. "Then we need three more Skeeters . . . "

"One with lies about Uncle Harry, one with lies about Merlin, and one with lies about the Dark Arts," said Victoire, grabbing two of each. Her stack seemed slightly too large to fit into her satchel, but, of course, undetectable extension charms were illegal, so that couldn't be it.

"Check, check, and check," said Teddy. They pushed their way through the crowd to Angelina, Fleur, Ginny, and Roxanne, who looked slightly pale but otherwise fine.

"We got your books," Victoire told Roxanne.

"Let's check out, now," said Roxanne quickly.

Angelina, Fleur, and Ginny disappeared for what seemed like ages, before reappearing to find Roxanne deeply engrossed in _Numerology and Gramatica_ , while Teddy and Victoire were arguing over a book titled _Curses and Counter-curses (Bewitch Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue-Tying, and Much, Much More)_ by Professor Vindictus Viridian. The cover was falling off, and it smelled distinctly old.

"I hope you aren't planning to _use_ those spells, kids,' came Angelina's voice, and Teddy jumped and hastily shoved the book back on the shelf.

"Actually, we were," said Victoire, examining her fingernails.

The mothers exchanged eye-rolls and slightly concerned looks, but let it slide.

They made their way out onto the street, then found a place to stop and read their supply list. Ginny excused herself, as she wanted to check on Lily. A two year old, under the supervision of three men with five other charges, in a highly dangerous joke shop, was not exactly a good environment for a toddler.

"We need three sets of plain black work robes, and a pointed black hat for daywear," said Roxanne, her eyes scanning the list. "And a pewter cauldron, standard size two. Then a set of glass or crystal phials, a set of brass scales, and one telescope. Then, we can have either a cat, a toad, or an owl."

Teddy had an angel-faced barn owl called Sayua, who he had received as a birthday gift last year. Roxanne and Victoire, however, did not have a pet of any kind, a source of great consternation between them.

"Let's go to the Magical Menagerie first," Victoire said happily. "Phials and robes and cauldrons and things are so boring!"

"They're very important magical imple—oof!" Roxanne's reprimand was cut off as Vic yanked on her arm and began to drag her off in the direction of the Magical Menagerie, a tall, narrow building in a powder blue, accented with pink and gold.

The door trilled like a parrot when Victoire pushed it open, the crowded interior dark, with cages of owls hanging from the ceiling, mice, rabbits, toads, and wicker baskets draped with cats hanging from the ceiling, stacked on shelves and tables, and stowed under the counter. The clerk, a tiny old lady with ridiculously magnified eyes and a puff of white hair peered over a stack of magazines entitled _The Cat Connoisseur_.

"Can I help you?" she wheezed.

"We're good," said Roxanne hastily. 'We'll just . . . look around."

"Yep," said Victoire.

The storekeeper gave them a gummy smile and returned to her stack of magazines, sifting through several editions of _The Owl Obsessor, Ratastic Rats!_ and _Totally Toads._

The two girls crept through the dark shop, listening to the soft jangle of cages and the pattering footsteps of small rodents. Vic suppressed a snigger at the sight of a small, white ferret watching her, beady-eyed, from the back of his cage. The story of the Amazing Bouncing Ferret was Uncle Ron's favorite, and, after a few drinks, he often spouted any anecdote that came to mind. Victoire remembered that he had once regaled them with the tale of how he had snuck into the girl's locker room on the Quidditch Pitch, and Aunt Hermione hadn't spoken to him for a week.

Roxanne, who had been adamant that she was getting a sensible, useful owl, immediately tossed the vow out the window as she cooed at a basket with a very large, very fat black cat draped across it. Rolling her eyes, Victoire left her to wriggle her fingers between the bars of a small kennel filled with tiny, sleepy-eyed kittens with needle teeth,

She pushed her way through a curtain, and into the back of the store. Here, food bags, toys, magazines, and other merchandise were stacked to the ceiling, ready to be set out on the shelves. There were a few creatures, a squid, whose long, apple-green tentacles were slithering over the side of her aquarium, a tiny puppy with large, violet eyes and a stubby tail, obviously a crup mix, like Smorgasbord, and a basket full of cheeping baby Pygmy Puffs. There was another door, clearly marked AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY. Victoire pushed it open.

In here, a small table covered in various grooming equipment, curlers and clippers and brushes. There were several bottles of pink dye, and a handbook of Puffskein grooming. Against the wall, there were several empty cages, most of them shut and latched, but one door was hanging precariously off its hinges.

Victoire eyed it apprehensively. There was a bed stuffed inside, a bowl of water, and an overturned food bowl of colorful kibble. The cage was suspended from the ceiling, and large, heavy chains were curled in a heap on the floor, the padlocks attached to the ends of the chains hanging open. The bars were slightly bent, and there were scratch marks across the base of the cage.

There was a scurrying behind her. Victoire did not turn around. The skittering noise paused, and slow, deliberate, clicking footsteps drew nearer.

They paused directly behind her, and Victoire turned around slowly.

A small, pointy face, with lush, red fur and large, green eyes looked up at her. There was a tiny fox on the floor in front of her, with a dainty paws and a fluffy white collar of fur across its chest. The creature's every aspect was innocent and sweet, but, considering the open cage, the gouges in the metal and the slightly warped bars, this little critter was anything but. The little fox blinked at her, and Victoire caught sight of the tiny, squirrel-like fingers. Almost like little hands . . .

Vic was in love.

A moment later, Roxanne, who had been waiting impatiently at the counter for Victoire to make her appearance, a tiny kitten with large, blue eyes and gray fur so fluffy he could be part Pygmy Puff, in a basket under her arm, finally caught sight of her cousin, who was walking painstakingly slowly towards them, cooing happily at something in her arms.

"I see you've got a cat, too," Roxanne noted. Vic wouldn't coo to an owl or a toad, that was for sure.

"How dare you!" Victoire cried dramatically. "Margaux is _terribly_ offended."

"Margaux?" Roxanne asked, not really wanting to know.

"Well, if she was a boy, I'd call her Renard, of course," Victoire mused. A bright-eyed fox peered out from her arms, sleek and adorable, with a slightly smug air. "But Margaux is a perfectly lovely name, don't you think?" The last was addressed at Margaux, who preened, pleased.

Roxanne was on the verge of banging her head against the counter, but the shopkeeper's reaction was more extreme than she had expected. With a shriek at the creature in Victoire's arms, the little old lady dived behind the counter, as if the vixen was going to explode. Victoire eyed her amusedly.

"Vic, you can't take a fox to school, it's on the list!" Roxanne brandished the parchment with the self-assurance of justice. "And owl, a cat, or a toad! There! Right there! See?"

"It doesn't have anything about foxes," said Victoire stubbornly. "That's only a suggestion. They need to choose their wording more carefully, this is entirely open to interpretation."

"You'll get detention," Roxanne threatened.

"I'll live," Vic noted. "Besides, Uncle Ron took an unregistered Animagus to school, in the form of a rat, and no-one paid any notice. You will notice, however, there is a distinct lack of rat-friendly notices on that list of yours."

Roxanne sighed. Arguing with Victoire was like trying to box the Whomping Willow. Completely hopeless and ridiculously suicidal.

"I guess we'll tell our mums we're ready?" said Victoire brightly.

The little shopkeeper was extremely happy to get rid of Margaux, for some reason. She piled bags of fox-food and toys and how-to books into Fleur and Victoire's arms, babbling about discounts, and shoved them out the door, free of charge. Angelina, Roxanne, and Roxanne's new kitten, Ratatosk, were given much the same treatment, then shoved outside. The door clanged shut, and a moment later a lock clicked, the windows went dark, and a WE'RE CLOSED sign appeared in the door.

"That was . . . different," Angelina mused.

"People who read magazines entitled _Pompously Porpoises_ are very odd," said Teddy, reaching out to pet Margaux. She purred, rubbing her soft head against his hand, then wrapped herself around Victoire's neck like a scarf.

"Well, what's our next stop?" asked Ginny, in the silence.

"We should stop by the Apothecary, or perhaps Madam Malkin's," said Roxanne, taking out her letter. Ratatosk was curled in the pocket of her sweatshirt. "Then we'll need the telescopes . . . we can get phials, cauldrons, and scales at the Apothecary."

Angelina absently reached out to stroke Margaux, and yelped as the fox sank her sharp teeth into the woman's palm, yanking her hand away.

"Your critter is nasty, Vic," Teddy noted.

"She didn't bite _you_ ," said Vic, defensively.

"She's very pretty," said Ginny reaching out a hand cautiously, then withdrew it when Margaux snapped at her fingers.

She behaved the same way to Fleur and Roxanne, doted on Victoire, and tolerated Teddy. She remained wrapped around Victoire's neck the entire shopping trip, which was mostly uneventful except for when she nearly gave Madam Malkin a heart attack (the woman had assumed Margaux was some sort of fancy fur collar.) By the time they had parted ways, the Potter, Lupin, and other Weasleys to get ready for the celebration of Roxanne and Vic's letters, and Fleur and Victoire had arrived at Shell Cottage, their arms hurt from carrying bags, and Margaux had blessedly gone to sleep, head resting on Victoire's chest. Bill came out to greet them, but Fleur stopped him before he could hug his daughter.

"It bites," Fleur warned.

"What bites?" Bill asked, confused, then caught sight of Margaux, wrapped tightly around Victoire's neck, bright eyes glinting at him from behind a curtain of strawberry-blonde hair. "Oh."

"And don't mention the Hogwarts restrictions on familiars," Fleur cautioned, sliding her purse onto the kitchen counter. "Now, the guests will be here any minute, so we'd best get on with preparations. Bill, _cherie_ , will you make those lovely strawberry tarts you made last Saturday? They were _délicieux_."

Fleur began to rattle off all the things that needed to be done before the guests arrived, just as the fireplace roared up in green flames and deposited Louis, then Dominique onto the carpet for once not at each other's throats. Louis had a suspiciously bulgy bag with the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes on the side, and hastily made his exit to his room. After Louis was born, the family had added a wing onto the small cottage, including two bedrooms, one for Louis and one as a guest bedroom on the top floor, and a large sun porch on the bottom floor, looking out over the vegetable garden and the low stone wall that encircled it.

Fleur gave him a calculating look as he scrambled up the stairs and out of sight, but was quickly distracted by Dominique, who shrieked as something in her own shopping bag spat smoke into her face.

"I'm going to kill Louis!" she shouted, heading for the stairs, her face smeared with soot and her hair in disarray.

'We probably don't want to know," Bill sighed.

"Let's put a waterslide from the top of the cliff into the ocean," Victoire said happily, ignoring the thumps and screams coming from above. "It'll be _epic_!"

"Also a little off-topic," Bill pointed out. "We need to get ready for your party."

"And I want a waterslide," said Victoire patiently. "Roxanne will agree with you."

"You, young lady, are going over to Ginny's until we're ready for you," Fleur announced. "You'll only get in the way."

Victoire pouted, but Fleur had already tossed a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace. "Now go!"

Clutching Margaux tightly, Victoire shouted "The Potters'!" and was gone, in a swoosh of flames and a sprinkling of ash. A moment later, she was stepping out of the fireplace, into the Potters' living room, a cozy place, with a comfortable, saggy red sofa, a thick rug, and honey-colored walls decorated with family portraits and, Victoire noticed, a picture of Draco Malfoy, covered in paint, in a place of honor over the mantelpiece.

"You Veelas can even make using the Floo seem graceful," said Ginny enviously, bouncing two-year-old Lily on her hip. Ginny was wearing a yellow sundress, her bathing suit visible through the sheer fabric. "Now, Teddy and Roxanne are upstairs trying to get James and Albus to take their naps. I told them it's hopeless, without you, anyway. How do you always manage to sweet-talk them into doing what you want them to?"

"Veela," Victoire reminded her, pointing at herself. "We happen to have many methods of convincing people to do things, like have Dad let us have six slices of cake." Victoire sniggered. "I was five, and so Dom was four and Louis was three, and we were sick all week. Also bribery. And threats. Oh, and blackmail if the others don't work." She shrugged. "I use the same approach I do for Uncle George."

Ginny laughed. "Well, I'd love to give you blackmail material on my brothers, and trust me, there are _loads_ , but I have to run." She eyed Margaux warily. "Will she bite Lily if I give her to you?"

"Be nice, Margaux," Victoire commanded. The fox watched Ginny warily for a moment, then bobbed her head and sat up a little straighter.

"Lily'll be fine, Margaux likes her," Victoire explained, taking the chubby two-year-old from Ginny's arms. She gave a bubbly giggle and began to play with Victoire's hair. The fly-away golden-ness had always fascinated Lily, whose own mane of fiery hair was so like her mother's . . . and her grandmother's. Margaux nuzzled her.

"Snake!" Lily exclaimed. "Snake, snake, snake!"

Ginny grimaced. "She's a late talker, but now that she can speak in full sentences, she won't say anything but _snake_!" She sighed. "Sorry, Vicky, I gotta go. See you at your party!"

Ginny snatched her purse and a large, lumpy bag from the coffee table and Disapparated.

Victoire tightened her hold on the warm, sweet-smelling baby and climbed the steps towards Albus's room, walking slowly along the corridor, as Lily ran her little hands through Margaux's soft fur.

"This is Margaux, Lils," Victoire told her. 'She's a fox, but I think she might have a bit of Niffler in her."

Margaux gave her a disgruntled look.

"Okay, maybe that's not possible," Victoire admitted. "Anyway, Margaux, this is Lily Luna. She's my favorite cousin, aren't you, Lils? Don't tell Roxy I said that."

Before Victoire could reach the end of the hall, where Albus's room was, the door flew open and Albus, soaking wet and wearing nothing but his eye patch flew out, the four-year-old running, shrieking, down the corridor. One sight at Victoire, who had perfected her mother's 'angry Veela' look long ago, and he gave a little scream and rushed back the way he had come, right into the waiting arms of Teddy Lupin. Roxanne appeared in the door behind him, holding a pair of pajamas and looking determined.

Teddy struggled with the toddler for a few moments, as Albus kicked and screamed, until Victoire set Lily down on the floor and, snatching it from Roxanne, jammed the pajama shirt over his head.

"Both of his arms and his head are through the neck," Teddy pointed out, rather unnecessarily, as Albus made muffled protests.

"That was just to incapacitate him," Victoire explained. "Roxanne, your turn."

With much difficulty, they managed to shove Albus into his pajamas, while Lily watched rather gleefully.

"I swear, that child is going to end up in Slytherin," Teddy panted, when Albus had been fully clothed.

'Who, Albus?" Roxanne asked. "You clearly haven't seen pictures of Uncle Ron as a baby. He's a demon."

"Not Albus," said Teddy. "Lils. Look."

Lily was holding her mother's magical Polaroid camera in her chubby fingers. It had been on the coffee table, Victoire was sure of it, but how it had ended up in Lily's possession. She was giggling to herself, a wad of photos clutched in her little fist. Teddy moved to take them, Victoire stopped him.

"Let her have her blackmail material," she admonished. "She's growing up like her mum and her _favorite_ cousin."

Roxanne rolled her eyes, picking up the sulking Albus. "We never should have let him take a bath. He's as slippery as Mundungus Fletcher when he's wet."

Victoire giggled, running her hand under Margaux's chin. "Where's James?"

"Tied to his bunk bed," said Teddy sheepishly.

"He was getting on our nerves," said Roxanne defensively.

"Twa-Twa!" Lily shouted, waving her arms in Victoire's direction. "Snakey! Me snakey! Ssss!"

Her babbling dissolved into a hissing, slithery speech that sent shivers up Victoire's spine and mde Margaux's fur bristle. Everyone stared at Lily, including Albus, who had stopped sulking.

"Um . . ." said Roxanne hesitantly. "Uncle Harry _did_ lose the ability to speak Parseltongue when Tom-Tom died, right?"

"Yeah, he did." Teddy's hair had unconsciously turned pale blue, which meant he was nervous.

"And this ability wouldn't be able to be passed on to his children, correct?" Victoire finished.

"Yes . . . ?" Roxanne didn't sound sure.

"Hold on, Ginnymummy's pureblood, isn't she?" said Teddy thoughtful. "And so was Uncle Harry's dad. So maybe, somewhere in their lines, they're related to Salazar?"

"Maybe." Victoire picked up Lily, balancing her on her knee. "Um . . . are you a snakey?"

"Sssssssssss,' Lily hissed, giggling. "Ssssss—" the hissing, spitting language was back. It certainly sounded a lot like a snake. Albus stuck his tongue out at his sister and scrambled away over Roxanne's shoulder. She let him go.

"It's probably nothing," Roxanne said, without any conviction whatsoever.

Teddy managed to catch Albus, and, with Victoire's help, convinced him to lie down and go to sleep, or he would end up tied to his bed, like James. He was quiet, after that.

Lily, who had already taken a nap earlier in the day, while the others were shopping, was set in the playpen in her bedroom while the three birthday-persons played Magical Clue on the floor of her bedroom. Victoire set Margaux, who, she had decided, was proving herself to be much more intelligent than, say, her Uncle Ron, to watch Lily.

It was part of George's ridiculously popular line of magical versions of Muggle Games, where you were your actual pieces and moved about the world as the avatars. So far, he had released a magical Clue, a magical Monopoly, and a magical Snakes and Ladders. It was rumored that a magical version of Scrabble in the works, which, rumor had it, had Aunt Hermione foaming at the mouth.

Monopoly always ended in bloodshed, and Teddy had an aversion to Snakes and Ladders since the first time he had been swallowed by one of the lovely multi colored pythons, so out came the Clue box. Victoire chose the red chip, for Miss Scarlet, Teddy took purple, for Professor Plum, and Roxanne the blue, for Mrs. Peacock.

When they touched the board, the nursery fell away, and each of them found themselves in their starting positions. Victoire twirled the slinky red dress and set off down the carpeted corridor, knowing that, across the mansion, Teddy and Roxanne were doing the same.

The game continued for another half an hour or so, Roxanne the eventual victor, finding that Professor Plum had been aided by his guest, Madame Violet in the murder of his host, (with the Weedosorus) hoping to inherit Mr. Boddy's fortunes, as he was like a son to the old man. By the time the game had ended, they had forgotten about any possible connection between little Lily and snakes, besides her absurd fascination for them.

They found themselves sitting around the board, on the rug in the middle of the nursery. Lily was standing in her crib, her green eyes wide, and her halo of red hair dwarfing her face. Margaux was curled up on her pillow, eyeing her carefully. "Roo-Roo!" Lily called, holding out her arms.

"Do want us to read you a story?" Roxanne asked, lifting her out of the crib and balancing her on one hip. "Go pick one."

Lily struggled out of her older cousin's grip and padded across the room to the bookshelf, examining the titles with solemn contemplation, before tugging on one rather large volume, with a picture of her father looking heroic plastered to the side. The title was spelled out in glossy white and gold, proclaiming _The Chosen One: A Guide to the Life of Harry Potter._

"Noooo," said Victoire grumpily, as Margaux leapt out of the crib and twined around her ankles. "Why is that even here?"

"Ginnymummy said she got it for Harry as a joke," said Teddy, equally unhappy. "Let's not read this one, Lils."

"Want to!" Lily announced angrily. "Dada! _See_?" She jammed her chubby finger against the cover emphatically. The portrait Harry dove for cover.

"Let's read . . . let's read the Tales of Beedle the Bard!" Roxanne suggested, scanning the shelf. "That's good, right?"

"Kay," said Lily sullenly. Victoire and Teddy sighed in relief.

They settled on the beanbag in the corner, Victoire tugging Lily onto her lap, with Margaux nuzzling the top of the toddler's head, Roxanne wriggling in beside the blonde with an arm thrown over her shoulders, and Teddy perched behind them, his hands propped on his knees. Victoire shifted the heavy baby in her lap, resting her chin on Lily's head, and opened the book.

A new problem arose when Lily refused to listen to any story but the Warlock's Hairy Heart, which they had deemed entirely unsuitable for the delicate, innocent mind of a two-year-old. They gave in when Lily wriggled away from them shrieked so loudly dust rained from the ceiling, Margaux snarled, Teddy's hair flashed orange at the grating noise and Roxanne's ears popped.

"Fine, we'll read the Warlock's Hairy Heart," Vic grumbled. As a part-Veela, her highly sensitive ears were still throbbing. "C'mere, Lils." She pulled the girl onto her lap.

"Wizard have hairy heart," Lily clapped her hands. "Blood, blood, blood!" She pretended to keel over in a faint, until Roxanne tickled her and she shrieked with laughter.

"I'll . . . go check on Albus and James, shall I?" asked Teddy brightly, making his exit. Roxanne and Victoire exchanged a look. Every since they were children, Teddy had been terrified of the Warlock's Hairy Heart, refusing to have it read aloud to him or he would 'just _die_." He had always been dramatic, though never as much as Victoire. Some things would never change.

Victoire read aloud the gruesome story while Lily cooed happily, often chiming in. It was clear she had the story practically memorized. By the time Victoire was reaching the end of the tale, there was a pop of Apparition from below them and Ginny's voice calling. "I'm back!"

Lily gave a cry of delight at her mother's voice, and, crawling out of Victoire's lap, padded out of the room in bare feet. Roxanne and Victoire, holding Margaux, followed her out into the hall, to find her standing by the banister, squeezing her hand in between the railings to wave at Ginny, who was standing in the entryway.

"Hi, loves," Ginny called. "They'll be ready for you soon, but I wanted to come back to check on everyone," she explained as she climbed the stairs and scooped Lily up into her arms. "Does everyone have all their body parts? Let me see. Lily?" She grabbed the girl's foot and carefully counted her toes. "All there. What about fingers?"

Giggling, Lily presented them for inspection, while Roxanne and Victoire pretended to look offended. This was their usual routine when the two, and Teddy, babysat for the Potters. Margaux, however, did not know this, and bristled at the very idea that something would happen to any child under _her_ watch.

"Now, where are my boys? And Teddy? Did they tie him out and leave him for the Pygmy Puffs?" Ginny asked, letting Lily slip to the floor as she toddled off in the direction of James and Albus's room.

"I think Teddy _was_ in there with them, and we haven't heard from him in awhile," Roxanne admitted, tapping her chin. "It's been very quiet."

"Sounds nefarious," Ginny mused. "We'd better rescue him."

They tiptoed down the corridor and pushed open the door to the boy's bedroom. Inside, Teddy lay, fast asleep, in a squashy

mauve armchair, Albus curled up on his chest.

"Aww," all three said in unison.

Teddy stirred slightly, then flushed at the sight of Ginny, Roxanne, and Victoire standing in the doorway, his gaze seemingly drawn to something by their knees. When Victoire glanced down, she saw Lily, holding the Polaroid camera and flashing a pearly, angelic smile.

"Good girl," said Ginny, pleased. "Vic, Roxy, make sure to distribute that when he's fifteen or so and pretending to be all punk and cool, trying to impress the ladies." She winked at Teddy, whose blush, which he had just gotten under control, spread across his face before he could hide it.

"Will do," Roxanne and Victoire said together, with wicked cackles.

"Blackmail," Lily told them, and Ginny scooped up her daughter praising her with baby-talk.

Albus stirred, and gazed at them sleepily, yawning. "Mum?"

"Hi, Bumblebee," Ginny said, brushing the dark hair back from her son's forehead. "Sleep well?"

"I ran down the hall naked," said Albus proudly, sitting up straight on Teddy's lap. "Teddy caught me."

"Lucky Teddy," Ginny laughed. She set Lily on the floor and picked up the four-year-old. "So, anything else exciting?"

"Teddy came in here because he was scared of the story, but I'm not supposed to tell you that," said Albus seriously.

"Al!" said Teddy, covering his face with his hands.

"Another story for the ruin-Teddy's-teenage-years album," said Ginny. "What story were you reading?"

"Lily would only listen to the Warlock's Hairy Heart," Victoire explained, ruffling Teddy's hair.

"I know," said Ginny grumpily. "Or that stupid Skeeter book. It's driving me _nuts_."

"So, Ginnymummy, are they all set up?" Teddy asked, rising from his seat, anxious to draw their attention away from his irrational fear of a children's story.

"I'll tell you if you tell me why you're scared of the Warlock's Hairy Heart," his godfather's wife told him, ruffling his hair like Victoire had done a moment before.

"It's _embarrassing_ ," Teddy moaned.

"Tell me," Ginny commanded, putting Albus on the floor.

"But—"

" _Ted_."

"Fine." Teddy folded his arms. "When I was three, and Vic and Roxanne were two, it was Vic's favorite story. So, once, after Angelina had been reading it to the three of us, Victoire announced that we were going to act out the story, and she and Roxanne chased me around the yard with a pair of scissors and a shoebox, trying to get me to hold still long enough so that they could put my heart in the shoebox."

Teddy waited, sulking slightly, until everyone, including Albus and even Lily, who probably hadn't understood everything, had stopped rolling around on the floor, laughing. Margaux looked pleased at her mistress's bloodthirst at such an early age.

"I have no memory of this," Victoire panted, laughter finally letting up. "How are you still alive, anyway?"

"Uncle Ron came outside and told you not to run around with scissors," said Teddy, grumpily.

"That will be retold around the table tonight, I promise you that, Ted," Ginny said, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes. "It reminds me of the time my brother's wouldn't share their broomsticks with me . . . and I so wanted to fly . . . and I shaved all their heads in their sleep . . . or the time when Ron yelled at me when I was dating Michael Corner . . . and then I set his bed on fire . . . or the time . . . anyway," she added hastily. "They should be ready for us now. Let's get everyone ready."

"Sounds good," Roxanne agreed, and the three of them started for the door.

"Wait," said Ginny. "Would anyone like to explain why James is tied to his bed?"

* * *

 **Next Chapter** :

' "I **R** eally liked the DA," said Luna dr **E** amily. "Except, if you did get it back together out of **V** engeance, **I** t would be th **E** MA, wouldn't it?"

"For Madwoman's Army," said George loudly. " **W** hat was the old bat thinking?" '

CritterCat


	4. Chapter Three

When the the Potters, Teddy, Roxanne, and Victoire stepped into the sitting room of Shell Cottage, their arrival was barely noted. The entire Weasley family except for Bill, as well as Harry, were crowded into the small space, perched on window sills, sitting on couches, standing by the mantelpiece, arguing in the middle of the room, accidentally knocking over lamps and sprawled in armchairs grouped around the fire. Fleur, Angelina, and Molly were attempting to get everyone under control, but their efforts were hopeless. Louis had hoisted James onto his shoulders, and Rose, who had turned five last autumn, was curled up with her head resting on Smorgasbord's back. Kaede, who was eight, the same age as Fred II, was arm wrestling his cousin on one of Fleur's mahogany coffee tables while Lucy watched them disapprovingly, three-and-a-half-year-old Molly on her hip. Ronin, who was less than a year older than Molly, and Hugo, the same age, were making faces at her while Molly giggled, and Charlie was swinging Dominique around in circles while she tried to look angry at him, then finally gave in to giggles. George and Ron were looking conspicuously innocent in one corner of the room, the bulging Weasley Wizard Wheezes shopping bag by their feet alone disproving that particular idea. Percy was eyeing them carefully. Audrey was keeping an eye on little Molly while trying to carry on a conversation with Cho, while Hermione was patiently answering Mr. Weasley's questions as he attacked Bill and Fleur's Muggle radio with a screwdriver.

"Oi!" Victoire yelled. "We're here!"

The noise petered out, and then roared again louder as everyone rushed them. Ginny was bombarded by Hermione, who looked extremely eager to escape Mr. Weasley's endless fascination for all things Muggle, and started up a conversation about a law on Portkeys that had been passed a few weeks before. Percy drifted over to join them.

"Heya!" said Ron, ruffling Victoire's hair. "So, what's this I hear about my favorite nieces going to Hogwarts?"

"Victoire's _mine_ , said George, pretending to snatch Victoire away with a frown. "You can have Roxy."

"Daddy, I'm hurt," said Roxanne with large, brown eyes looking at him sadly. "I thought _I_ was your favorite niece!"

Harry popped up behind Teddy, clapped him on the back, and then drifted over to his wife, who was looking desperate as Percy and Hermione argued heatedly over elf rights. How that conversation had gone down the drain, Victoire wasn't sure.

"Where's Papa?" Victoire asked her mother, who looked peeved at the sight of Fred and Kaede doing their 'we're hungry' dance on her coffee table.

"Work's running a little late, he said to start without us. He'll be here soon," she promised, then sped off to intercept Ron and George and their suspicious bag of merchandise.

Lily wriggled out of Ginny's grasp and flung herself at Victoire's knees. "Up!" she demanded.

"Okay, okay," Victoire laughed, scooping up the toddler, and the next thing she knew she was being bombarded by more small children. Rose and little Molly were babbling about cake and Molly's new doll, while Ronin, who adored Victoire with every fibre of his soul, clutched at her legs. Kaede and Fred had desisted with their dance and were demanding to know when they could have cake. The chaos did not lessen at all, only was moved out onto the porch, then across the yard and down the steps to the beach, talking, laughing, and, in famous Weasley fashion, arguing.

The party crew had set up long, wooden tables on the sand, covered in white cloths, and bundles and baskets of poppies and chrysanthemums, a very obvious hint from Ginny, who had been in charge of the flowers.

Fred and Kaede were sulking because they weren't going to eat first ("Honestly," said Ginny, rolling her eyes, "It's like you're related to Ron or something."), when the Scamanders and Longbottoms arrived, and soon after that, the Woods, then the Thomases, then the Finnigans, and finally, Andromeda Tonks.

Victoire and Roxanne scrambled back to Victoire's room to change into their swimsuits (they had forgotten to earlier), and to put Margaux in her new cage for the party, returning to Lysander and Dominique in an epic water fight against Lorcan and Louis, as everyone knows if you want to have a really bloodthirsty war, pit sibling against sibling. Victoire and Roxanne joined in gleefully, on their own side, and soon Teddy had joined them, and then the Wood brothers, Kyle, Blake, and Richard, then their little sister, Tara, who was the same age as Fred and Kaede, (who also threw themselves into the game) and, after that, they descended into dunking each other under the surf while screeching like banshees, and there was no hope for them.

When they dragged themselves back onto the beach, soaking wet, out of breath, and hopelessly hungry, they found Rose, Molly, Lucy, and Madhari Finnigan making a sandcastle near the tables, while the adults mingled, small talk pouring out of their ears. Madhari had sand in her fair hair, and was casting Kaede shy looks while her mother, Parvati, was attempting to wrangle the tiny, tantruming tempest that was her son, Angus. It was a source of much amusement among the group that Angus, with a name chosen by his father, looked like his mother, and Madhari was fair-haired with freckles, like her father. Hugo was squealing at his sister, who had buried him up to his neck, and sweet Alice Longbottom and her brother, Frank were attempting to dig him out while Rose giggled. The Thomas triplets, Lydia, Kitty, and Mathilda were all seven, and had found a colorful yellow-and-pink striped snail, which they had set carefully in a blue plastic pail by the boathouse. The amiable chaos was broken by a scream of outrage from near the tables, where Ron had fallen into the trap Victoire, Louis, Dominique, and Teddy had dug for Percy. Ron spluttered as the entire beach roared with laughter, no one louder or more violently than Victoire, but his rescue was delayed by the arrival of Bill.

"Papa!" Victoire cried, flinging her arms around him.

"Hey, Toire," Bill said, ruffling her hair. Victoire stuck her tongue out at him. Why did everyone feel the need to mess up her hair? Just because she was part-Veela didn't mean she couldn't get tangles.

Fleur frowned at him. "Is everything all right?"

"Fine, everything's fine," said Bill quickly.

Fleur placed her hands on her hips. " _No_ , it's not. Don't you dare lie to me, William Arthur Weasley!"

Bill winced. "Ah, yes. Ahem. Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news . . ."

At this point, all fifty-two partygoers, not counting Bill himself, had stopped talking and focused on the eldest Weasley son. Bill swallowed, his hands fidgeting.

"Anyway, I was talking to Morrison, you, know, he works with me . . . and apparently, er, his mother was at that book signing of Rita Skeeter's at Flourish and Blotts, and, well . . ." He trailed off. "She's going to be the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Rita Skeeter, I mean. At Hogwarts. For, erm, this year."

There was a stunned silence, broken only by Hugo's shrieks as Rose poured a pail of water onto his head.

"Merde!" Fleur swore. "That woman is a menace!"

"McGargoyle should be shipped off to the loony bin," George shouted. Angelina hit him on the arm.

"We're doomed!" Roxanne wailed.

"She's dead!" Victoire pounded her fist into her palm.

"Our worst fears have been confirmed," said Teddy dramatically.

Everyone started shouting at once, and, by the time Mrs. Weasley had everyone under control, they were ravenous and furious, especially the three among the number who would be going to Hogwarts that September. They descended on the table, and, most importantly, the cake, like starving wolves, carrying on dozens of conversations at once, shoveling cake and ice cream onto their plates, and settling into chairs, pushing, shoving, and arguing as only Weasleys do best. Lily ended up on Victoire's lap, crammed between Roxanne and Harry, with Teddy on Roxanne's other side, with Madhari wedged between Teddy and Kaede, who was next to Fred, and so on down the line. Harry was next to Ginny, who was by Luna and Rolf, while Ginny was attempting to pay attention to a conversation between the couple about something called "fun swee," as Ginny told Harry later, all about arranging furniture and burning incense to 'promote spiritual harmony,' or some sort of codswallop, Harry was ranting about Rita Skeeter and how "she's as bad as Umbridge," until George and Ron expressed their doubts very loudly from farther down the table. Lorcan was sticking carrots up his nose while Lysander was braiding little Molly's hair. Angus was being shoveled with cake to muffle his screaming, and little Alice had her head nestled in her father's lap.

"I would say you should start a Dumbledore's Army of your own," Harry was saying loudly, attempting to mop the cake from Lily's shirt. "But the Room of Requirement was destroyed, and it would be hard to prevent Rita from spying on you, she is a beetle Animagus after all—"

"I blame Malfoy and his goons. It was a stupid thing to do," Ron yelled back, from nine or so seats down. "Fiendfyre my a—"

"Ronald Weasley!" Hermione and Mrs. Weasley bellowed at once, and Ron looked properly ashamed.

"I really liked the DA," said Luna dreamily. "Except, if you did get it back together out of vengeance, it would be the MA, wouldn't it?"

"For Madwoman's Army," said George loudly. "What was the old bat thinking?"

"I think you're confusing her with Snapey," called Victoire. "He's a bat, she's a cat, Uncle George."

"Barmy old gal," George agreed.

"She's an admirable witch and an excellent role model," said Fleur, scoldingly. "She would never put that Skeeter woman at the helm unless she was pressured into it."

"Pass me a tub of ice cream, will you, Uncle Bill?" Teddy asked, reaching across the table.

Victoire caught Roxanne's look and they both ducked their heads together.

"We can't let this hag get away with it," Roxanne whispered.

"We'll give her hell," Victoire promised. "She won't know what hit her."

"Except that it was a Weasley," said Roxanne with satisfaction.

They returned to the rowdy, overlapping conversation with new determination.

* * *

July came and went, Teddy, Roxanne's, and Victoire's combined birthday party leaving the others in its wake. George and Angelina, but mostly George, had organized the 'world's largest paintball fight' which spanned across all of Diagon Alley, wreaking havoc and terror in the hearts of innocent shoppers. The next day, Draco Malfoy, splattered in paint and seething in fury, made the front page of the Daily Prophet, along with an article which took several viewpoints, from 'the Weasleys are a menace to society' to 'but they sure know how to throw a party.'

August, where a quieter celebration of Roxanne's birthday was held, within her family of four, also passed, and, before Victoire, Roxanne, and Teddy knew it, it was September first, and the whole of the Weasley and Potter clans were descending onto Platform Nine-And-Three-Quarters. Those passing through Kings Cross that day stopped and stared, wide-eyed, at the enormous group of odd people arguing between platforms nine and ten, three of them pushing trolleys loaded with old-fashioned trunks—and, was that an owl? Wait, is that a fur collar, around that girl's neck, there, see? I swear it moved.

As subtly as it was possible for Weasley to be, their number slowly diminished, until all had gone, and a train platform, filled with white steam and the sounds of children reunited with their friends.

"The Hogwarts Express!" Dominique squealed. "Oh, you lucky hippogriffs! I can't wait!"

Victoire beamed at the sight of the train, wreathed in smoke and as red as Weasley hair (except for hers, and her siblings', of course.) Hogwarts. Hoggy warty Hogwarts. George and Ron had taught her the song, of course.

"And here's a list of all the secret passages," George had told her, grinning. "I'd give you the Marauder's Map, but you kind of have to steal it yourself. A right of passage, if you will."

"Uncle Harry didn't steal it," she'd said.

"Ah, yes," her favorite uncle grinned. "But it was always his, wasn't it?" he had leaned in close to whisper 'As much as it belongs to Teddy, really, too. I imagine Lupin was the brains behind the making of it."

The Marauder's Map was locked away in Teddy's trunk, Victoire knew. Not that Teddy had used it all of his first year, but with Victoire and Roxanne on their way to the troublemaking paradise of Hogwarts, he would soon be playing the level-headed Remus to their James and Sirius.

"Because we won't be associating with any Pettigrews," Victoire whispered to Margaux, who growled at the very _idea_.

"Quickly, everyone, or you'll miss the train!" Mrs. Weasley gave each of them a peck on the cheek and a rib-cracking hug. "Now, be good and, and, learn things, and make friends, and have fun!" she stood back, her eyes watering slightly.

"Be naughty and learn all the secret passages and make enemies and have loads of fun!" George called, as the three were bombarded with kisses, hugs, and well-wishes. "And send me a Hogwarts toilet seat!"

Fleur squeezed Victoire tightly, whispered "Good luck!" in her ear, and pressed something into her hands. Bill ruffled her hair and wished her the same, then bent down to whisper "There's a shortcut to the Great Hall behind a picture of Vladimir the

Really Bloodthirsty on the second floor. The password is 'bowels.' I love you, Vicky."

Before Victoire could figure out what her mother had given her, the three students were shoved onto the train, the trunks were pushed in after them, and they were hanging out the window, waving to the mass of red hair on the platform, and then they were gone, rounding a corner and out of sight.

They kept waving for a moment or so longer, then, with a one last look at the rolling green countryside, set off down the corridor, dragging their trunks. That is, Teddy and Victoire dragged their trunks; Roxanne, looking only very slightly smug, had drawn out her new black walnut wand and levitated hers.

"It's Win _gar_ dium Levi _o_ sa," Victoire sniffed in imitation of their Aunt Hermione in one of Ron's favorite tales. They all laughed.

"Friends or enemies?" Victoire asked, after a moment.

"What?" Teddy asked.

"Friends," Roxanne decided. "Enemies are for during the Sorting, or just before."

"What?" Teddy asked again, but the girls just rolled their eyes and pushed open the next compartment.

Inside, a girl with glossy, raven hair and olive skin sat, staring out the window, sprawled on one bench. She had the easy grace of a predator, a panther, perhaps, and was wearing a white shirt and jeans. She was definitely a first year, their own age, but she had a sort of glamorous air about her that, it was clear, would either make people hate her or love her. On the other side sat a boy with a Muggle t-shirt and jeans, looking uncomfortable. He had dreadlocks and a single gold earring, but gave the impression he was rather embarrassed about it all. The feeling intensified when he looked up and have them an apologetic smile.

The lovely girl across from him looked up, smiling. "Hi," she said, patting the seat beside her. "I'm Maya."

Roxanne exchanged looks with Victoire. She gave a quick nod, and the two girls settled down next to Maya.

"I'm Roxanne, and this is Victoire," Roxanne explained. "We're Weasleys, we just don't look it."

"And that, over is Teddy Lupin," Victoire pointed. "He's second-year, and our minion."

"Hey!" Teddy protested, sitting down next to the boy with dreadlocks.

Maya laughed. "Well, as you already know, I'm Maya, Maya Zabini. I don't know who he is, we just met," she nodded towards her companion. "Hello, Weasleys, and Lupin."

"I'm Noah Jordan," said the boy with dreadlocks. "My family moved to France after the war, but we're back." He wrinkled his nose. "Didn't much feel like going to Beauxbatons."

"Je ne peux pas te blâmer," Victoire grinned.

"You must be the Veela Weasley," Maya noted, swinging her feet up onto the bench beside her. "My father's a Slytherin."

"That was bit abrupt," Roxanne noted. Maya grimaced.

"I just thought you should know," she said. "He wasn't involved in the war, though. It's something. Blaise. Blaise Zabini. My mum's Daphne Greengrass—Zabini, now, of course—which means," Maya sighed. "My cousin is that Malfoy brat."

"My condolences," said Victoire, giggling. "And we don't have any anti-Slytherin prejudices."

"Victoire's probably going to end up one," Teddy teased, and Victoire hit him.

"I won't be a Slytherin," Maya told them. "I'm hoping for Ravenclaw. If I was Hufflepuff, I'd die, and and so would my entire family, and probably the Malfoys, too, by affiliation. Gryffindor, Dad would have an apoplectic fit."

"My dad would if I were in Slytherin," said Victoire, lifting her trunk onto the luggage rack, while Margaux nibbled on her hair. She put the fox in her wire kennel, whispering apologies in her ear. "I'll see you after dinner tonight," Vic promised.

"Dude, what's with your hair?" Noah asked and the two boys dissolved into a conversation that had them fast friends by the time the Trolley Witch appeared.

"Anything from the trolley, dears?" she asked.

"Ooo, candy!" Victoire leapt up and emptied a money pouch into her palm. Maya reached for Drooble's Best Blowing Gum and soon, they had a heap of Fizzing Whizbees, Chocolate Frogs, Cauldron Cakes, Pumpkin Pasties, and Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. Teddy had purchased nothing but Chocolate Frogs, and had huddled in the corner, nibbling on a twitching confectionary amphibian. Maya and Noah watched him, bemused.

"He gets the chocolate fascination from his dad," said Victoire, snatching the stack of cards from the heap of discarded wrappers. "Let's see . . . ah, here!" She held up a card with a scruffy-looking man with brown hair and an old trench coat. 'Remus Lupin. And here's his mum. Nymphadora Tonks." She waved a card containing a pink-haired woman with a heart-shaped face, then scrutinized Maya. "technically, you're distantly related to him, by marriage. Her mother, Teddy's grandma, is Narcissa Malfoy's sister, which makes you . . ."

"His second cousin once-removed," said Roxanne, emptying a few Bertie Bott's Every-Flavor Beans into her palm.

"How did you do that?" Noah asked.

"Weasleys are good at arithmancy, especially when it comes to complicated familial relations," Roxanne explained, selecting a purple bean from the pile.

"Especially multiplying," said Victoire slyly, and Teddy and Noah choked on their candy.

"First of all, you spend too much time with Uncle George," said Teddy, when he had recovered. "Second of all, you guys don't have to talk like I'm not there."

"You aren't there when you're eating chocolate," Victoire argued.

"Guys, wanna place bets on this one?' Roxanne asked, holding up a blackish-purple Every-Flavor Bean.

"Place bets?" Maya asked.

"Don't tell me you've never played Bite the Bean before?" Noah asked her. "All you have to do is bet on the bean the first person selects for the first round. If you guess right, you get immunity for the next round, where everyone chooses a bean and places bets on their own. Immunity meaning, you don't have to eat anything. If you pass, you're left out of the next round, meaning you can't win immunity but you also don't have to eat anything."

"Got it." Maya gave an imperius nod. "You may continue."

"Essence of Acromantula," Victoire crowed.

"I'm going to have to go with Victoire's," Teddy admitted. "It looks evil."

"Um, I'll pass," said Noah, looking at the bean.

"Licorice," Maya suggested. Roxanne popped it in her mouth.

"Maya wins!" she called. The game went on until it was time to change into their Hogwarts robes. Maya, and the two Weasley girls departed for the changing rooms next to the bathrooms.

When they returned, sniggering at a story of Maya's about a Christmas with the Malfoys, Teddy and Noah were already in their school robes and were leaning dangerously far out the window, searching for Hogsmeade.

"It'll be on the left of the train, dummies," Maya told them, and they withdrew sheepishly.

"So, you're a Gryffindor, I expect?" Maya asked Teddy.

"Yes, but it was a close thing," he told them. "The hat wanted to put me in Ravenclaw."

"Were your parents in Ravenclaw?"

"No, Gryffindor for my dad and Hufflepuff for my mum," Teddy explained, daring Maya to make a rude comment. She shrugged.

"There hasn't been a Weasley since the beginning of time who wasn't in Gryffindor," Victoire sighed. "My mum went to Beauxbatons, but I think she would have ended up in Ravenclaw or Slytherin. She's . . . well, it's hard to explain."

"She's Fleur," Roxanne shrugged. "You'd understand if you met her."

The conversation moved to what their classes would be like, and a long rant about Skeeter which Noah and Maya joined in with vigor. "She's a vindictive vulture," Maya seethed. "She published an article about former Slytherins a while back, and, when Dad wouldn't give her an interview, she called Mum all sorts of awful names, said she was cheating on him with Draco Malfoy of all people." They all sniggered at that.

Before long, they were pulling into the station in Hogsmeade. Leaving their trunks to be magically transported up to the castle, they climbed out of the train and, suddenly struck by nerves, waited in silence.

"Firs' years!" came the call. "Firs' years, over 'ere! Follow me, firs' years!"

"I'll see you up at the castle," Teddy told them, jogging off in the direction of the thestral-drawn carriages.

Roxanne, Victoire, Maya, and Noah made their way towards the half-giant's looming figure in the distance, to find, as their family members had told them, a line of small, oarless boats lined up on the shore of the lake.

"Hullo, Roxy, Vic!" Hagrid called to them, then muttered, "I mean, Miss and Miss Weasley. Who're yer friends?"

"This is Maya Zabini and Noah Jordan," Victoire told him, beaming up at his beard, as his face was a little hard to see from her vantage point. "Four to a boat, right, Hagrid?"

"S'right! Firs' years! Firs' years! Over 'ere! Firs years!" Hagrid returned to calling out for their other year-mates, and Victoire, Noah, Roxanne, and Maya climbed into one of the little boats and waited, as Hagrid doled out instructions to the other first years and climbed into his own, slightly reinforced, paddleboat. Immediately, the little boats began to drift across the lake, propelled by magic alone. In the distance, Hogwarts rose, the golden lights of the castle glinting out over the surface of the lake, spires and battlements outlines, dark against the starlit sky. There were ripples in the inky water, and Maya trailed her hand in them. "Watch out," Victoire warned. "Uncle Ron said there's a giant squid in there."

A moment later, they were clambering out of the boats and, shuffling after Hagrid's bulk, found themselves in a large, warmly lit room where a woman who introduced herself as Penelope Davies, the Transfiguration teacher, was waiting, a scroll in hand.

"In a moment, the Sorting will begin," she told them. "When I call your name, you will step forward and sit on the stool. Are there any questions?"

"Yes!" shouted someone from the back. "Who put you in charge, Mudblood?"

"Language, Miss Nott," said Penelope coldly. "You will address me as Professor Davies, or ma'am."

"Sure." said the girl. She had long, brown hair and almond-shaped eyes, and had Maya's aristocratic grace, but in a rather unpleasant fashion, Victoire thought. She looked mean.

Professor Davies gave her a stern look, then exited without answering the girl's question. The tension in the room tightened by a knot or two. Maya looked unruffled, but her palms were sweaty and she kept wiping them on her cloak. Noah was hyperventilating, and Roxanne was reciting arithmancy problems under her breath. Victoire clenched her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering, as they always did when she was nervous.

The girl who swore at Professor Davies tossed her head in contempt of teachers in general, and made her way over to Victoire's group.

"That woman is a disgrace," the girl said loudly. "Can't even do her job properly. I'm not surprised they're all Dumbledore fanatics. The Mudbloods here are like rats. I'm Colette Nott," she nodded in Victoire's direction. "Nice to meet you."

"The pleasure is all yours," said Victoire, charmingly, nodding her own head. "I'm Victoire Weasley."

The girl narrowed her eyes, and Victoire laughed in her face. "I'd hate for you to associate with the _wrong_ _sort_ , Colette. Perhaps you should run home to your Death Eater papa. After all, big, bad Hogwarts is full of _all_ the wrong sort."

"Including prissy pureblood princesses, too caught up in the values of a long-dead sociopath," said Maya coldly.

Colette glared at her. "You're one to talk, Zabini. Hate for you to receive improper tribute here. I don't think they have solid gold plates for students."

"I have this overwhelming feeling of not caring about your vacuous opinions, Colette, dear," Maya folded her arms. "Now, why would that be?"

"I have no clue," said Roxanne dryly. "Perhaps it has something to do with exactly _what_ her opinions are."

Victoire leaned in, so her nose was almost brushing the infuriated Colette's. "Shove off, Nott."

Perhaps Victoire compelled her with a smidge of Veela power, but Colette, still fuming, turned on her heel and stormed away from the group. Victoire drew back to avoid being slapped in the face by Colette's curtain of hair.

There was a sound of soft applause from Noah, who looked rather wide-eyed. "You guys scare me, sometimes."

"Sometimes?" Victoire asked looking hurt.

Noah didn't have time to reply, because, at that moment, Professor Davies had appeared in the doorway.

"If you would all follow me, please," she told them, then turned and began to walk down the corridor. Pushing and shoving, the first years followed her.

They blinked in the light of the Great Hall, hundreds of faces looking at them. Teddy was watching from the Gryffindor table, and Victoire gave a little wave and a sweeping bow.

McGonagall stood to give the usual speech about "Don't go into the Forbidden Forest" and "Weasley Wizard Wheezes items are banned within ten miles of Hogwarts grounds." Victoire had expected this, but she let her gaze wander up the staff table, where a middle-aged woman with dyed blonde hair and long, fake nails was smirking at the students. She had the infamous rhinestone glasses perched on her nose, and was turning an acid-green quill over and over in her hands.

"Skeeter," Victoire whispered to Maya, who glowered.

"And, if Professor Davies would commence with the Sorting," McGonagall finished, and the teacher nodded and stepped forward, holding the Sorting Hat and a stool. She set the stool on the floor and placed the Sorting Hat on the stool, standing back to wait. There was a silence for a moment, then the brim of the hat opened like a mouth, and a voice filled the great hall - slightly nasal, but amiable.

"When I was young and smooth of brim,

I sat on the raven head

Of Gryffindor, the bold and trim

Now you'll wear me instead.

Let me look into your mind,

And see your own true calling,

For you can't hide, and I will find

What you think most enthralling."

The hat went on to describe the strengths and weaknesses of the various houses, but Victoire's attention kept slipping back to Rita Skeeter. Once, she found the odious woman looking at her, though this did not last long when Victoire gave her a death glare, and the reporter looked away hastily.

"Abbot, Laura," Professor Davies read aloud, when the hat had finished, and a terrified-looking girl with blonde pigtails scurried up and perched on the stool, visibly trembling.

"Alice and Frank's cousin," Roxanne whispered to Victoire, who nodded, recognising the girl from one of Alice's birthday parties. The hat had hardly touched her head before it shouted "HUFFLEPUFF!" and a relieved Laura had scurried off to the Hufflepuff table in the applause from her new housemates.

A pale, dark-haired boy ("Avery, Tyler!") was sorted into Slytherin. Victoire kept an eye out for anyone she knew, or any names she recognised. A vaguely familiar girl, ("Brocklehurst, Mitzy!") was sorted into Ravenclaw, and a simpering girl with pigtails and ribbons in her hair ("Boot, Magenta!") was Sorted into Hufflepuff, but other than that, Victoire didn't pay attention until one boy, with fair hair and a slight smile, was called up as "Davies, Martin!" and he gave his mother a grin of confidence as he passed, and was sorted into Ravenclaw. Victoire recalled that her mother had been escorted to the Yule Ball by his father. Soon after him came "Finch-Fletchley, Olivia!" a girl with curly, dark and large, brown eyes, who was sorted into Hufflepuff. Victoire applauded her loudly, as her mother, Padma, had been the midwife for every Weasley grandchild, and that alone was ridiculously admirable.

Not long after Olivia had been sorted, "Jordan, Noah!" was called up to the stool. Noah gave her a weak smile and staggered off, looking terrified at the very idea of being the center of attention. The hat deliberated over him for a while, which had Noah's eyes practically rolling back in his head in fright, but he was soon announced a "Gryffindor!" and, to a roar of applause, stumbled across the hall to sit beside Teddy.

Roxanne and Victoire glowered when "McLaggen, Troy!" was sorted into Hufflepuff, as they'd all heard the story of his father harassing their Aunt Hermione in sixth year. "He'll be a Zacharias Smith kind of Hufflepuff," Victoire whispered in Roxanne's ear, and she nodded vigorously. They had heard Ron's rants about Zacharias, too. Many times.

Victoire tuned out until the unpleasant sound of "Nott, Colette!" rang out from Professor Davies. Colette tossed her shiny curtain of brown hair and stalked up to the stool haughtily, the Sorting Hat barely brushing her scalp before "SLYTHERIN!" rang out through the room. Roxanne, Maya, and Victoire applauded politely, disgusted looks on their faces. A moment later "Nott, Felix!" was heard, and, puzzled, the three girls looked toward the stool. A dark-haired, graceful boy had appeared at the front of the crowd. They stared.

"Twins?" Roxanne asked, but Maya shook her head.

"I think he's her cousin," she whispered. "Her brother's really small, I think."

Nott, Felix was Sorted into Slytherin, which was met with folded arms and a smug look from his cousin, already making herself at home at the Slytherin table.

A pair of twins did appear, however, during the sorting. A boy and girl, "Robins, Belle!" and "Robins, Bo!" were called up, with the girl in Gryffindor and the boy in Ravenclaw. After that, Victoire went back to giving Skeeter the stink eye, wondering how much Weasley Wizard Wheezes merchandise she could smuggle into Hogwarts through the secret passage to Hogsmeade. Probably a lot, and George would most likely pay her a tidy sum to use his products against the hag.

"Weasley, Roxanne!" called Professor Davies, and Victoire jerked her head up.

"Good luck," she whispered to Roxanne, who bit her lip, trembling, then walked as calmly as she could to perch on the stool. Professor Davies placed the Sorting Hat on her head.

After several long moments of agonizing silence, in which Roxanne's eyes grew wider and wider, the hat finally shouted "GRYFFINDOR!" and the hall broke into applause. Roxanne beamed, a little shakily, then ran to sit next to Teddy and Noah by the Gryffindor table.

"Weasley, Victoire!" came immediately afterwards. Victoire couldn't quite remember how she got up besides Professor Davies, just how the woman smiled kindly at her, and the sensation of the old hat being lowered onto her head. _Hundred of thousands of students have worn this before me,_ she thought. _I wonder if I'll get lice?_

 _That isn't a very reverent thought,_ came the Sorting Hat's voice in her head.

 _I'm not a very reverent person,_ Victoire replied, in her own mind.

 _You're rather bold, quite a Gryffindor trait,_ the Sorting Hat mused. _Cynicism is, however, a mark of a Slytherin, in my book._

 _Would that be Hogwarts, A History?_ Victoire asked sweetly. There was a virtual chuckle.

 _Ravenclaw would not suit you badly, either,_ came the voice _. Though, I must say, a Weasley with a mind like this is quite unusual._

 _I'm quite unusual._ Something occurred to her. _Where would you sort yourself, do you think?_

There was long pause, which seemed to contain some degree of surprise.

 _No-one had ever even considered that in all my years of Sorting,_ said the hat, finally. _But, I must say, it would be Slytherin. The ability to gaze into the minds of others is a trait that is mainly held by those of cunning. And I have had time to consider this, of course._

 _And you were Godric Gryffindor's hat,_ Victoire thought. _Perhaps there aren't so many differences between the two houses._

 _I assure you, they are polar opposites,_ said the Sorting Hat, sounding offended.

 _What about Ravenclaw and Slytherin?_ Victoire demanded. _Wit and learning are not so different from cunning and ambition._

 _Each house has its strengths,_ said the Sorting Hat coldly. _Now, let me sort you into your house—_

 _You know what I think?_

 _Actually, yes._

Victoire ignored the hat. _I think you do whatever you bloody well please. The houses are just a load of sentimental rubbish. And you decide the course of the lives of people when they're eleven?_

 _I don't have to tolerate this rudeness,_ said the Sorting Hat, grumpily.

 _Actually, you sort of do,_ said Victoire, sniggering at her lame pun. _I mean, you're a hat. You can't exactly go anywhere._

 _I'll put you in Slytherin if you don't watch out,_ came the snide voice.

Victoire snorted. _Really scary. It's almost like I'm an unpleasant conversationalist._

 _Stop . . . thinking so loudly and just let me Sort you_ , the hat said petulantly, then, as if to himself _arrogant Veela brat._

"Yeah? Well, your mother was a secondhand beanie!" Victoire shouted angrily, and very, very, very loudly.

The Great Hall burst into laughter, while Teddy buried his head in his arms. Roxanne gave Victoire a thumbs-up.

"I can't take it anymore!" the hat wailed. "Of all the impudent, irritating—"

"Illustrious?" Victoire suggested.

"I give up!" the Sorting Hat announced. "Put her in Hufflepuff, for all I care, heaven knows she'd eat them alive. Why not just give her her own bloody house all to herself, while we're desecrating and disgracing the very values of our Founders!"

McGonagall shot Professor Davies a quick glare, and the Transfiguration teacher, who was attempting to hide her amusement, hurried forward to snatch the hat from Victoire's head. The blonde girl ignored everyone, crossing her legs and folding her arms, as stubbornly at ease as if the stool were her throne.

"Never in all my days . . . why, it's . . ." McGonagall spluttered. Victoire raised an eyebrow at her.

" . . . never in all my days have I seen such a Gryffindor trait," the Headmistress completed, giving Victoire a threatening look.

"Don't be a moron!" shouted a first year from the Slytherin table. Victoire recognized him as Colette's cousin, Felix Nott. His housemates tried to hush him, but he stood angrily. "That was the most Slytherin thing I've ever seen anyone do! Has anyone else ever made the Sorting Hat cry?"

Sure enough, the old hat was sobbing into the shoulder of an irate-looking Professor Davies.

"What an _interesting_ opinion, Mr. Nott," said McGonagall coldly. "We shall be sure to take your opinions into account. Now," she said, turning to Professor Davies. "How many students are left, Penelope?"

Professor Davies unrolled her scroll and announced "Just the one, Headmistress."

'That would be me," came Maya's voice. The young witch grinned at Victoire. "Aren't you off to the Gryffindor table?"

"Apparently," said Victoire wryly.

"I am afraid, Miss Zabini, that due to Miss Weasley's shameful behavior, that you will be unable to be Sorted today, as the Hat is in no condition to make decisions at the moments." The Headmistress's voice was stern, but Victoire could have sworn McGonagall had winked at her. "You may wait until tomorrow, or perhaps a while longer, or—"

"I think I'll go with option two, Professor," said Maya cheerily, with a mock bow. "Gryffindors, you just earned yourself a Zabini!"

Colette Nott shot to her feet, her palms slamming into the Slytherin table. "You blood traitor!"

"Language, Miss Nott," McGonagall scolded, then, though Victoire may have been hallucinating, muttered "There are enough of them to be honorary Weasleys."

"Remember what I said earlier, Colette?" Maya asked, giving the girl a contemptuous look. "About, what was it, Vicky?"

"I think your exact words were, 'I have this overwhelming feeling of not caring about your vacuous opinions, Colette, dear,'" Victoire said, tapping her chin.

"That's right." Maya gave the furious girl one last look before linking arms with Victoire. "Shall we?"

Victoire blew Colette a kiss as the two of them settled down next to Teddy, Roxanne, and Noah.

McGonagall, who had been watching with one arched eyebrow, cleared her throat warningly. "Miss Weasley, don't think you have been cleared. I expect to see you in my office, tomorrow evening, eight o'clock. Miss Nott," she continued, turning towards the Slytherin table. "Five points from Slytherin for vulgar, outdated and narrow-minded language. I hope you have enjoyed this use of your new House's points."

Colette flushed angrily, but sat down, still seething, as, around her, there was a murmur of irritation from her new housemates.

"Now," said McGonagall, raising her hands for silence. "Let the feast begin!"

* * *

' "TEDDY!" A blu **R** of fly-away gold shot across the room, flinging h **E** r arms around his waist. "WHY didn't you TELL me how WONDERFUL Potions is?"

" **V** ery funny. You're joking, r **I** ght?" Teddy stared down at her. "You're being sarcastic?"

"Of course not, don't be silly!"

Teddy shot a look that asked is she m **E** ntal over Victoire's shoulder at Roxanne, who grimaced.

"She's been like that since **W** e left the dungeons," Maya supplied with amusement, watching Victoire babble in Teddy's ear about rat spleens and hairy caterpillars.

"Did she push Nott into a cauldron?" Teddy asked with concern. "Is that why she's so happy?" '


	5. Chapter Four

Later, in their new Gryffindor dorms (which Victoire had been confined to for the rest of the night, as she had been rude to one of the fifth-year prefects,) Victoire and Margaux were reunited.

"Who's been my naughty little fox?" Victoire cooed to her pet, who nipped affectionately at her fingers. "Who's been a bad little beastie? Who's been Vicky's wicked familiar?"

Maya was watching the display with amusement, while Roxanne had started unpacking her trunk. "I thought you could only have an owl, a cat, or a toad at Hogwarts?"

Roxanne rolled her eyes, folding a Puddlemere United jersey and tucking it away in her chest of drawers. "Or, you could have a Victoire, which means rules don't apply to you."

Victoire, who had caught sight of the Puddlemere jersey, growled at her. "Traitor!"

The fourth occupant of the room laughed. She had sandy hair, bright eyes, and an easy smile. A ridiculously fat tabby cat with a black collar that read **CASTORPOLLUX** was draped in her arms."I suppose you don't like Puddlemere?"

The fifth girl, who had very light, almost goldish-brown hair, gave her a well-meaning, completely bewildered grin, stroking the chin of her eagle owl.

Roxanne ran a hand over the fuzzy gray puffball on her bed, which may or may not have been an extremely fluffy kitten. "It's not that she doesn't like it, but that she's ridiculously obsessed with the Holyhead Harpies. Half her wardrobe is green and gold."

Victoire stuck her tongue out at her cousin, tossing the lid of her trunk open and beginning to sort through her belongings.

"I support the Tutshill Tornados, myself," said Maya innocently. Victoire shot her a glare.

"Me too." The fourth girl stuck out her hand. "Belle Robins. My brother, Bo, is in Ravenclaw."

Maya returned the gesture. "I'm Maya Zabini."

"Roxanne Weasley."

"Victoire Weasley, and this is Margaux."

The fifth girl gave a shy wave. "Wendy Castel. I'm Muggle-born."

Introductions complete, the girls continued to unpack. Roxanne had been right - half Victoire's wardrobe _was_ in Holyhead Harpy colors. When she uncovered the third Muggle-style baseball cap with the Seeker's name on it, Wendy, Belle, Maya, and even Roxanne finally dissolved into laughter. Rolling her eyes, Victoire pointed out that Roxanne only liked Puddlemere United because she had a crush on Oliver Wood, and, after a pillow fight of epic proportions, they all settled down, giggling, to regale each other with embarrassing stories of their families.

After a particularly funny story of Maya's older brother, Alex, a bottle of ketchup, and three accordion players in bikinis, which Victoire was nearly positive was three-quarters made up at the _very_ least, Roxanne asked the question which had been weighing on their minds for some time. "Won't your family be upset that you were put in Gryffindor? Or, rather, chose to be?"

Maya frowned, stroking the feathers of her elf owl, Paolo. "Well, it's complicated. As I said before, the Zabini family weren't very involved in the war. Neither were the Greengrasses. Some blood prejudice remains, but nothing that can't be overthrown eventually . . . and I do have an aunt who's technically a blood-traitor. Aunt Melisse Zabini, she's a Curse Breaker for Gringotts, and travels a lot. She's awesome. Dad will be furious, but get over it . . . the Malfoys will freak . . . oh, and Mum will laugh and say she knew it all along and tell Alex he owes her ten galleons or something." Maya sighed. "It'll work out."

Victoire and Roxanne quickly changed the subject to other things, such as the Great Purple Incident of 2007, which had Belle, Wendy, and Maya in tears of laughter by the end, especially the part where they had Ronald Weasley the Great War Hero cornered in a tree. Soon, Roxanne was reminding everyone that they had classes tomorrow, and they were clambering noisily into bed to drift off to sleep.

* * *

Teddy met them at the entrance to the common room for breakfast. Belle and Wendy were introduced, and Noah produced his roommates, who, other than Noah, were a boy with brown hair and a nervous smile, called Spencer Fawley, and another, with blond hair and blue eyes, whose name was Caleb Crawford.

The Great Hall was packed, but all eight of them managed to find seats. Almost as soon as they sat down, the mail arrived, including an irate letter from Maya's father, which said he was upset but wasn't going to disown her unless she married a Weasley, and packages of sweets and congratulations on their Sorting from Teddy, Roxanne, and Victoire's family. As Victoire slathered her toast in marmalade, Roxanne checked their schedules for the year.

"Victoire, you're going to drown if you add any more marmalade," said Maya firmly, taking away the pot. "What's our schedule for today like, Roxy?"

"First period, we've got Potions with a Professor Merula Snyde. Then, Transfiguration with Professor Davies, and, urgh, DADA with the vulture herself." Roxanne made a face. "What a Monday. Transfiguration, I'm looking forward to that, but Potions will most likely be awful and DADA will end with Victoire trying to hex Skeeter's ears off."

" _Professor_ Skeeter, Roxanne," said Victoire scoldingly, in imitation of Hermione. They laughed.

"Any nice-looking days of the week scheduled, Roxy?" Victoire asked, swiping Teddy's orange slices. He pouted at her.

Roxanne scanned the parchment. "We have Charms, Herbology, and Astronomy on Thursday, That looks interesting."

Victoire examined her own schedule, brushing away a few crumbs. "Oo, look, tomorrow we have flying practice! _Nice_!" She paused, looking smug. "Not that I need it, of course."

"You sound very sure of yourself, Victoire," came a sickly-sweet voice from behind her. Colette Nott, flanked by a blonde girl with fake nails and a girl whose hair was almost as dark as her own, was standing behind them. "Are you sure you'll manage it?"

"Your concern is noted and _duly_ appreciated, Colette, dear," said Victoire. Then added, less eloquently, "Piss off, Nott."

"Oh, so touchy, Weasley. Did I hit a sore spot?" Colette frowned in fake apology. "I'm terribly sorry. I promise it won't happen again in the future, Vicky." The Slytherin stalked off, her bimbo-cronies giggling in her wake.

"Mght bidt ivth gnnu dwui," Victoire declared, mouth full of food. Roxanne slapped her. "No swearing!"

Maya stared at her. 'You understood that?"

Teddy laughed. "Roxanne could pick up an obscenity a mile away."

"See you later," Victoire told Teddy, snatching up her book bag and cramming the last of his orange slices in her mouth. "I'm going to wipe the floor with Colette Nott, just you wait."

Roxanne rolled her eyes, following suit. "Come on, Maya. We have to make sure she doesn't hex anyone."

The Italian girl laughed. "I can see why that might be needed."

"I'm hurt!" said Victoire, and she did look sincere. "You're accusing me of somehow hexing Colette and getting _caught_?"

"You did see that the first spell you were going to cast would be _Levicorpus_ ," Roxanne replied, as they walked towards the dungeons. "You haven't done that yet."

Victoire grinned. "Actually, I have. Why did you think I got candy from everyone except Uncle Percy?"

* * *

The potions classroom was in the deepest part of the dungeons, lit by dripping green candles and ghostly orbs near the ceiling. Jars of specimens lined the walls, and Victoire expressed her annoyance to Maya, Belle, and Roxanne as they settled at a table near the back of the room. Roxanne already had _Magical Drafts and Potions_ open in front of her. "It's like we'd be intimidated by this crap. What does this Professor Snyde think we are, five?"

"Language," said Roxanne automatically. "And look at Noah. _He_ seems intimidated."

Noah and his two roommates were near the front of the room. Cast in the pale light of the magical orbs, Noah did seem green.

Colette Nott and her two cronies sashayed into Potions a moment later, just as the door at the back of the room slammed open, and a woman who looked to be about as old as their Uncle Charlie stalked into the room, robes billowing.

"You're late," she snapped at Colette and her bimboes. "Five points from each of you."

Roxanne and Victoire exchanged shocked looks. This wasn't what they expected. Ron had spent many an hour at the Burrow, complaining about Snape's favoritism.

Colette certainly looked shocked. She cast the Potions Professor an angry look, and stormed over to where the last remaining table sat, near the front of the room. Her cronies followed.

The woman, who sounded as if she were wearing heels, stalked over and stood behind her desk.

She wasn't as old as Victoire had expected, and had short, spiky brown hair and violet eyes that sparked angrily in the eerie lighting. Unrolling the parchment scroll on her desk, she began the roll call.

"Avery, Tyler?"

The pale boy Victoire remembered being Sorted mumbled some sort of recognition. Professor Snyde eyed him coldly.

"Castel, Wendy?"

Wendy managed a weak little bob of the head and a squeak.

"Davis, Kiki?"

The dark-haired Colette crony giggled.

"Fawley, Spencer?"

"Here."

"Flint, Bunny?" Victoire snorted at the name of the second bimbo.

"Crawford, Caleb?"

"Present."

"Jordan, Noah?"

"Over here."

"Nott, Colette?"

"Present." Colette smirked at the teacher, who ignored her.

"Nott, Felix?"

Colette's cousin, who was sitting at a table with Tyler Avery, a girl with a blue-and-green silk scarf covering her dark hair, and another boy who must have been the girl's twin, nodded.

"Robins, Belle?"

"Here, Professor Snyde."

"Safiq, Amber?"

The girl at Felix Nott's table inclined her head.

"Safiq, Audran?"

Her twin nodded.

"Weasley, Roxanne?"

"Present."

"Weasley, Victoire?"

"Present, Professor Snyde." Victoire leered at her.

"Zabini, Maya?"

"Yes."

The potion mistress let out a sigh. "Thank Salazar that's over. It took nearly as much time as the actual lesson will."

Spencer Fawley made the mistake of laughing. Professor Snyde shot him a death glare. "Something to say, Mr. Fawley?"

"No, ma'am," Spencer added hastily.

Snyde sneered at him. "Apparently not. Now," she continued, rolling her sleeves up to her elbows. "Do any of you have a single clue _what_ you are doing in my classroom?"

There was a brief silence, then Amber Safiq raised her hand.

"Yes, Miss Safiq?"

"To brew potions, Professor Snyde."

'Wrong!" Snyde snarled. "Mr. Jordan?"

"Um, to brew—"

"Wrong!" Snyde turned back to the classroom. "Does _anyone_ have a clue?" She eyed the assembled students. "Miss . . . "

"Delacour-Weasley, Victoire Delacour-Weasley." Victoire put down her hand. "We're here to combine a bunch of ingredients with magical properties and throw them in a pot."

"That is correct, Miss Delacour-Weasley," said Snyde calmly. "Ten points to Gryffindor."

"That's the same thing I said!" Amber Safiq protested.

"Miss Nott, can you tell me how Miss Delacour-Weasley's answer differs from Miss Safiq's and Mr. Jordan's?"

Colette bit her lip. "She was more cynical?"

"Wrong, Miss Nott." Snyde turned to the room at large. "Can anyone tell me why Miss Delacour-Weasley was correct?"

There was silence.

"Very well." Snyde paced back in forth in front of the blackboard. "Miss Delacour-Weasley pointed out that it is not the potion that makes the properties, but the ingredients. Now, if I were a normal potions professor, I would have you brats making Shrinking Solutions or some other codswallop." Snyde's lip curled. "And, since I am not, today, you will be learning the properties of the ingredients in a Shrinking Solution. In other words, what we put in our cauldron and why we do it. Can anyone tell me the main ingredient to Shrinking Solutions? Miss . . . ?"

"Johnson-Weasley. The main ingredient to a Shrinking Solution is Shrivelfig juice."

'Can anyone tell me _why_ this ingredient is so important?" Snyde looked around at the classroom. "Very well." Turning back to the blackboard, she wrote MAGICAL PROPERTIES OF THE SHRIVELFIG at the top.

"The Shrivelfig is known to survive well in harsh climates, and the center of the fruit contains a purple juice, which, when harvested correctly, contains components that can be used to alter the matter or mass of an object . . . "

* * *

After Potions, Teddy met the first-year Gryffindors in the Great Hall before lunch. As he approached, Noah tried to warn him away with wild, frantic gestures, but it was too late.

"TEDDY!" A blur of fly-away gold shot across the room, flinging her arms around his waist. "WHY didn't you TELL me how WONDERFUL potions are?"

"Very funny. You're joking, right?" Teddy stared down at her. "You're being sarcastic?"

"Of course not, don't be silly!"

Teddy shot a look that asked _is she mental_ over Victoire's shoulder at Roxanne, who grimaced.

"She's been like that since we left the dungeons," Maya supplied with amusement, watching Victoire babble in Teddy's ear about rat spleens and hairy caterpillars.

"Did she push Nott into a cauldron?" Teddy asked with concern. "Is that why she's so happy?"

"Unfortunately, no." Roxanne sighed. "Mr. Lupin, meet the new teacher's pet of the year."

" _Victoire_?" Teddy's hair turned purple. "For _Snyde_?"

Maya jumped on the balls of her toes, hands in the air. "Ooh, ooh, pick me Professor Snyde! Adding four rat spleens to the potion with greatly increase its potency, Professor Snyde! Adding minced daisy roots until the potion turns yellow would eliminate negative side effects, _darling_ Professor Snyde!"

"It's add the daisy roots until the potion turns green, not yellow," said Victoire coldly. Roxanne and Maya groaned. "And I never called her _darling_."

"I'll see you at Transfiguration," said Belle hastily, snatching Noah's wrist with one hand and Wendy's with the other, and dragging them towards the Gryffindor table, Spencer and Caleb trailing after them.

"And I thought Roxanne would be the insufferable know-it-all in _our_ trio," Teddy teased, ruffling Victoire's hair.

Victoire sniffed. "You smell like manure."

Teddy wrinkled his nose. "It's the dragon-dung fertilizer in Greenhouse Two. It _never_ comes out. Don't worry, I'm taking a shower before Charms, after lunch."

"Speaking of lunch," Roxanne cut in. "We're off to eat. See you later?"

Teddy nodded. "We'll discuss Victoire's drastic personality change later in the common room. See you!" He turned and walked away, then called back over his shoulder "And Vicky? Stop scaring people, will you? If you're friendly with McGonagall, I'll call Uncle Bill and have him haul you off to St. Mungo's, okay? And if you're not in McGargoyle's office by the end of the day, I'll be _very_ worried—"

"Brat," Victoire muttered, as he ducked the quill she threw at his head.

Maya clapped her on the back. "Let's eat."

* * *

"Uncle Harry says McGonagall is an Animagus," Roxanne whispered to Maya and Belle as they made their way to their desks. "She used to teach Transfiguration, you know."

Professor Davies was standing just behind her desk, waiting for the hum of conversation and the scrape of chair legs o die away. She had a short, shiny bob of brown hair, and sharp blue eyes. It was hard to imagine McGonagall ever looking like her.

Davies cleared her throat, and the noise died down immediately.

"Welcome to your first year of Transfiguration. I am Professor Davies, Deputy Headmistress and Head of Ravenclaw.

Professor Davies then delved into a 'brief' explanation of the elements of Transfiguration, but Victoire's hand was shooting into the air.

"Yes, Miss . . . "

"Weasley. Victoire Weasley. With all due respect, Professor, isn't Transfiguration virtually useless in a real-life environment? Besides the art of Animagi, of course." Victoire shot a wicked grin at Roxanne, who looked resigned, and Maya, who looked delighted at the expression on Professor Davies' face.

"There's the Victoire we all know and love," Roxanne muttered, her head in her arms.

Professor Davies, along with every Ravenclaw in the room, looked scandalized. "I assure you, Transfiguration is the most fundamental area of magic—"

Victoire's hand was in the air again. "The way _I_ see it, the subject is a great threat to our economy. If you can Transfigure practically anything you choose, nearly any product is rendered useless."

"Miss Weasley, our economy is not the issue," said Professor Davies said icily. "Now, Gamp's Eighth Law of Elementary Transfiguration states that any reptile Transfigured into a—what is it _now_ , Miss Weasley?"

"I'd like to point out that, even if _is_ a worthwhile subject, the idea of turning sentient creatures into inanimate objects is an

unnecessarily cruel process—"

"Miss Weasley—"

"-wouldn't it be better to turn inanimate objects into living creatures—"

"Miss Weasley!"

"-I'm not saying that Transfiguration isn't an interesting subject for some, but just because you want to have an affair with it doesn't mean we all do—"

"MISS WEASLEY!"

"Please, call me Victoire."

She got sent to the Headmistress's office.

* * *

Neville, who, as her head of house, had been summoned to 'deal with her,' was trying to look stern, but Victoire saw the crinkle around his eyes that suggested he was highly amused with her antics.

"Miss Weasley, do you have anything to say for yourself?" McGonagall had enough sternness in her gaze for about fifty Nevilles.

"Professor Davies confused Gamp's Eighth and Tenth Laws," said Victoire innocently.

"Miss Weasley, this is disgraceful behavior, especially on your first day—"

"-I'll be sure to wait a bit next time—"

"-and I hope to Godric you don't behave this way in front of that Skeeter woman—"

"-oh, don't worry, I'll be worse—"

"-shut down the school!"

Victoire froze. "I'm sorry, what?"

McGonagall sighed, folding her her hands in her lap. "Professor Skeeter—Miss Weasley, has your family ever told you the story of the reign of a woman named Dolores Umbridge, before her departure from this school?"

Neville's cough sounded suspiciously like 'centaurs.'

Victoire nodded. "Ranted about her, more like it."

"I would imagine so," said McGonagall, with a wry smile. "She was . . . almost as unpopular among the staff as she was among the students."

"Uncle George called her a foul, toad-faced grindylow of a woman, who deserved everything she got and more. Except with more swearing."

"I can't think why," said McGonagall, with a straight face. "But her purpose, her purpose, Miss Weasley, is the matter here. Do you know what this purpose was?"

"To infiltrate Hogwarts for that old coot, Fudge." Victoire's eyes widened. "No effing _way_! Aunt Hermione would never let—"

"Miss Weasley, your aunt does not have complete control over the Ministry. And some views will never shift." The headmistress pinched the bridge of her nose. "Sk- _Professor_ Skeeter's presence here is a mystery for us all. All I ask of you, Miss Weasley, is that you keep in mind that . . . that . . . "

"That Skeeter has the ability to make your life, and the lives of every person in this castle, a living hell," Neville supplied smoothly.

"Got it," said Victoire, jumping down from her seta and bolting across the room.

"Not so fast, Miss Weasley," came McGonagall's voice. Victoire cringed.

"Detention, with Madam Pomfrey. Ten o'clock. After your detention with with Professor Snyde for making the Sorting Hat blubber." Neville smirked at her. "Don't think we'd forgotten about that, either."

Victoire pouted at him, but skipped out without any more detentions, which was, to put it in her own words, a friggin' miracle. On the other hand, she wasn't going to listen to their advice about Skeeter.

Yes, she could make Victoire's life a living hell. But what McGonagall and Neville didn't realize was that Victoire had plenty of living hell of her own to hand out.

Oh, uptight Professor Davies would get some. McGonagall had gotten a dose today. Colette would have special attention paid to _her_. But Skeeter . . . well Skeeter would be out of the school by the end of the year, curse or no curse.

The new Umbridge, huh? Well everyone knew what had happened to _her_ . . .

Victoire felt rather cheerful as she skipped off to DADA, making her way along the corridor. Suddenly, she paused. She still had enough time, and she was just outside Moaning Myrtle's bathroom . . . she giggled as she slipped into the haunted loo to . . . collect something.

* * *

'"A **R** e you not wondering why you are here?"

"Behind a dusty old tapestry of a bunch of pigtailed ladies in m **E** tal bras? No, not really, this happens to me every day," **V** ictoire rolled her eyes. "And **I** 'll give you 'odd little spell. Keep an **E** ye on your darling cousin tonight at dinner, will you?" She grinned. "Not that it **W** ill be easy to miss." '


	6. Chapter Five

The classroom was devoid of Skeeter when Victoire arrived, but Maya and Roxanne were sitting at a table near the back, glaring at the door to the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher's office. When Victoire joined them, their eyes barely flickered.

"Are we going to melt her with our laser-vision?" Victoire asked sweetly. "Because, if we are, Roxanne''s been reading too many of Fred's Muggle comic books."

"Says the girl who tried to burn Uncle Harry at the stake when he told you Wonder Woman doesn't exist," Roxanne snorted. "And no, we're not. We're going to hate at her until she dissolves in self-loathing."

"Soulless people can't hate themselves," said Victoire, waving an airy hand. "No, I have a better idea."

"What is it?" Maya asked, looking apprehensive.

"I'm blonde, correct?"

Maya glared at her. "Is this a trick question?"

"No." Victoire paused. "Well, it _might_ have been. But what I'm saying is, if we act all giggly and shallow and fail at spells on purpose, Skeeter will underestimate us."

"And then, when we fail our O. W. L.s, what then?" Roxanne asked. "This is a stupid plan."

"That's right, Roxy, keep your opinions to yourself. ' Victoire stuck her tongue out at her. "Have you ever heard of something called the D. A.?"

A few minutes later, Rita Skeeter sashayed out of her office, under the gaze of the Gryffindor and Slytherin first years. She was wearing violently mauve robes, her hair in bouncy, buttercup-blonde curls, her features so artificial-looking Victoire would have bet fifty galleons that she had undergone Muggle plastic surgery. Skeeter was in her early sixties, Victoire knew, as she had made sure to know everything she could about the woman before going under her regime. For some reason, possibly as she was a Weasley, Skeeter was glaring at her with venom not softened even by her rhinestones. On one bony hand sat an enormous, ridiculously ugly emerald ring that drew Victoire's eyes with its sheer hideousness.

"Good morning, class." Rita Skeeter descended into her uncomfortable-looking molded metal chair, twirling the ever-present acid-green quill between her fingers. "My name is Professor Skeeter."

" _Rita Skeeter_?" Victoire gasped. "Weren't you a reporter when my mum was in the Triwizard Tournament?"

There was sniggers from where Felix Nott and Audran Safiq sat, sprawled in aristocratic boredom.

Victoire forced herself to flush pink. "Oooh, I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude."

Colette shot her a suspicious glare. Victoire ignored it.

"I love your work in _Witch Weekly_ ," Roxanne lied through her teeth—she had never so much as touched a copy of _Witch Weekly_ since they had had a bonfire in the middle of the Burrow's lawn and they used Granmolly's old magazines as kindling. "It's so . . . _interesting_." She let out a bubbly laugh.

"I agree, you were absolutely _yum_ ," Maya clapped her hands complacently.

Rita looked bewildered. "Why, thank you. And you are . . . "

Victoire gritted her teeth. There had been only one female Triwizard champion, after all. But she giggled. "Oooh, I'm Vicky!"

"I'm Roxy," Roxanne clacked her beaded braids together.

"And I'm Mimi!" Maya shot a venomous look at Victoire, which went unnoticed by both the target and Skeeter.

"Well." Rita shook her head, and turned back to the class. "Please take out your copies of Dark Figures in Wizarding History: A Young Student's Comprehensive Companion, and read the first ten pages."

A moment later, after the rustling of paper and school bags died away, Colette had her hand in the air.

"Yes, Miss . . ."

"Colette. Colette _Nott_ ,' said Colette smugly. "This is a children's book, Professor Skeeter."

"Looook! Ooh, _Mimi_ , You-Know-Who has a bowtie!" Victoire cooed, shoving her copy of _A Comprehensive Companion_ under Maya's nose. "Isn't it _darling_?"

There were muffled noises from Audran Safiq and Felix Nott, suggesting they were highly amused by her behavior. Noah, Spencer, and Caleb just stared at her in astonishment.

"It's just _precious_ ," Roxanne said hastily, pinning Maya's arms behind her back so she couldn't throttle Victoire.

"I see no issue, Miss Nott," Skeeter said primly. "Please return to the reading material."

Colette slammed back down into her seat angrily. Bunny and Kiki watched her warily.

Skeeter settled back in her seat, the Quick-Quotes-Quill scribbling away as she watched Colette flip through pages lie she wished to rip them to shreds. Victoire watched it out of the corner of her eye. If only she knew what it was writing . . .

"Prepare to be giggly," she whispered to Roxanne and Maya, who did not look very thrilled. Dragging them to their feet, Victoire tiptoed across the room to stand in front of Skeeter's desk.

"Please finish reading, Miss, ah—" Rita paused, realizing she never got their names. "Come to think of it, what—"

"Oooh, Professor, this is soooo embarrassing and all, but . . . Mimi wants your autograph," Victoire giggled.

"Of course," said Skeeter, looking irritated. "Do you have something to sign . . . ?"

"Mimi wants it on her _arm,_ " Victoire said, then giggled harder. 'Mimi' looked thunderous. Victoire would probably pay for this later, but right now, she wanted to know why Skeeter was using a Quick-Quotes-Quill.

Skeeter sighed, pulling out a violently fuschia quill and gripping Maya's arm. "Hold still."

As Skeeter signed Maya's forearm, Victoire stood so that she could peer at the paper on the woman's desk. Almost . . .

"Done," said Skeeter, releasing Maya's arm. "Now, back to your seats."

Roxanne caught sight of Victoire's panicked expression, and thrust out her own. "Me too!"

Their professor looked aggravated, but took hold of Roxanne's arm and brandished her quill.

"Not on my _arm_ , silly-willy," Roxanne giggled. "I want it on my forehead." She pointed at it, for good measure.

"Fine. Lean down." Rita Skeeter commanded. Victoire leaned in a bit farther to study the parchment. The Quick-Quotes-Quill had stilled, hovering motionless over the green-ink scrawled surface.

"Stop wiggling," Skeeter snapped, irritated, at Roxanne, as Victoire squinted at the writing. She could out now, even upside down . . . ' _Miss Nott, who shares the violent tendencies of her father and his kind, has expressed her utmost disdain for the Hogwarts school curriculum, and it is clear to Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet Corresponddent, that young Colette believes it to be beneath her . . ._ '

"There!" Skeeter snapped, dropping the vivid quill back into a drawer and shoving Roxanne's head away. "Now, for the love of Merlin, return to your table."

As soon as they had slid back into their seats, Roxanne gripped Victoire's arm so tightly, her nails bit into the girl's skin. "There had better be a good reason I have that _evil_ woman's name tattooed on my face," she hissed in Victoire's ear.

"Later," Victoire promised, opening the assigned book to the chapter dedicated to Voldemort. _Once upon a time there was a very bad man who didn't like Muggles very much . . ._

* * *

After several agonizing hours of this, Skeeter dismissed them, with homework in the form of three rolls of parchment dedicated to Rita Skeeter's work on Merlin. Shouldering their school bags, they poured out into the corridor in twos and threes, everyone grumbling over Skeeter. Victoire had been scanning the corridor for an empty classroom, where they could discuss her idea, but someone grabbed her arm and yanked her behind a fading tapestry of an army of Valkyries. Roxanne and Maya, too, had been snatched, and Victoire could feel them struggling and scratching at their captors. Victoire, realizing that the grip on her arm was definitely female, decided her favorite knee-trick would be rather ineffective.

"Oooh, Colette,' she cooed. "If you're looking for a snog, I'm very sorry, but you're not my type."

"I'm not Colette," replied a smooth, exotic, and highly amused female voice. "I am Amber Safiq. And no, I am not looking for a snog. You're not my type, either."

"Lumos," Victoire whispered, and the tip of her hazelwood wand ignited, casting light on the faces of Amber Safiq, her twin, Audran, Felix Nott, Maya, and Roxanne. Roxanne, her wrist gripped by Audran Safiq, realized that she wasn't about to be kidnapped and stopped trying to claw his eyes out. Maya stopped struggling, too, but Felix now had a black eye and a disgruntled expression, which was covered in red scratches.

"How do you know that spell?" Audran asked, his voice as rich as his sister's. "It is second-year!"

Victoire twirled her wand, casting odd shadows across the small alcove hidden behind the tapestry. "Pur-lease. I made sure to learn all the essential spells before I ever even got on the Hogwarts Express. Lumos, Expelliarmus, Accio, Alohomora, Wingardium Leviosa, _Levicorpus_ . . . " she trailed off, looking smug.

"I have not heard of that spell," Audran mused.

"You wouldn't have,' Victoire assured him. "I'd be happy to demonstrate it for you, however." Roxanne snorted.

"Your odd little spell is not important," said Felix dismissively. "Are you not wondering why you are here?"

"Behind a dusty old tapestry of a bunch of pigtailed ladies in metal bras? No, not really, this happens to me every day," Victoire rolled her eyes. "And I'll give _you_ 'odd little spell. Keep an eye on your _darling_ cousin tonight at dinner, will you?" She grinned. "Not that it will be easy to miss."

Felix waved her off. "Fine. What I am saying, Weasley, is that your behavior in DADA did not go unnoticed."

"Oh really," Victoire oozed. " _Do_ tell."

"Are you always so infuriating?" Felix demanded. Roxanne patted him on his arm sympathetically.

"Only when I'm breathing," Victoire quipped.

Amber laughed. "I _like_ you."

"I like me, too."

"Stop it!" Felix demanded, looking impatient. "Weasley. Whatever you're up to with Skeeter, I imagine it will be rather . . . painful on our new Professor's part."

"So what?" Victoire demanded. "I'd like, no, I'd _love_ to see you try and stop me."

"What my _dear_ socially awkward friend means to say, is that we want in," Amber explained.

"I am not socially awkward!" Felix protested. Everyone ignored him.

'Well, I'm afraid only Amber can join," said Victoire regretfully. "It's girls-only."

"And that Lupin kid," Audran noted.

"What can I say?" Victoire shrugged. 'He has cool hair."

"I have cool hair!" said Felix hopefully. No-one paid him any notice.

"What Victoire _means_ to say," Roxanne put in. "Is that we could use all the help we can get."

"But only if you have a motorcycle," Maya added.

"A _flying_ motorcycle," Victoire corrected.

"Enough, both of you!" Roxanne scolded, flapping her hands at them.

"Fine." Victoire gave Felix a manic grin. "So lovely to have you, your Majesty. Just keep in mind, I can and _will_ do whatever it takes to make your life a misery if you _ever_ cross me."

"Oookay," said Amber slowly. "You have issues."

"I bet my issues are better than your issues."

"We all have issues!" Roxanne interrupted. "Now, we drop it."

"On last thing." Victoire clapped her hands with glee. "I learned from the best. That means every woman in my life. My mother was the first female Triwizard champion _ever_. My aunt Cho is the youngest Head of International Magical Cooperation in a century. My aunt Audrey is a member of the Wizengamot. My aunt Angelina is the top Healer at St. Mungo's. My aunt My aunt Hermione is . . . well, she's _Hermione Granger-Weasley_ , Minister for Magic, brains of the Golden Trio. Who, I might add, left permanent scars on the face of a certain traitor. And my aunt and godmother Ginny Potter . . . well, have you ever heard of a Bat-Bogey Hex? I didn't think so. You will soon. My grandmother raised six boys and my godmother, which is no small feat, then killed Bellatrix Lestrange at the Battle of Hogwarts. I've also been taught rudimentary dueling by Harry Potter, Legilimency by Luna Scamander, who's an Unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries, Quidditch by the Bell-Woods, and set my least favorite uncle on fire multiple times. Also, I can change a Muggle light bulb. So do _not_ get any not-so-clever ideas about letting something slip to Mosquito. Kapeesh?"

Roxanne punched Victoire in the arm. "That was unnecessary."

"Now," said Maya pointedly. "That you've stopped scaring the Slithies, will you tell your ever-so-faithful sidekicks what the bloody hell you're up to?"

"Well . . . " Victoire grinned at the frozen faces of Auran and Felix, and Amber's delighted one. "Rita Skeeter is an Unregistered Animagus."

"Sweet!" Amber whooped. "This will totally _destroy_ her!"

"No!' Victoire held up a hand. "Think like a Slytherin, my dear."

"No, think like Victoire." Roxanne folded her arms. "Blackmail. Vic, Aunt Hermione already _did_ that."

"Aunt Hermione had scruples, and pesky morals," said Victoire, waving an airy hand. " _And_ no grown-ups on her side."

"And how exactly exactly are we getting an adult on our side?" Felix asked.

Victoire beamed. "I am _so_ glad you asked! It's time for me to write a letter to my godmother. She had blackmail on everyone, have no doubt whatsoever that she has blackmail on Draco Malfoy."

"Why my _darling_ uncle?" Maya asked.

"Your _darling_ uncle is chairman of the Hogwarts Board of Governors," said Victoire with glee. "And he has shiny hair. People listen to people with shiny hair."

"And lots of money," Maya noted.

"Exactly."

"What exactly are we aiming for here?" Amber asked.

"That would be telling," Victoire said, with delighted evil. "Here's a hint: our name is the V. R."

"Isn't that the acronym for Muggle virtual reality?" Roxanne asked.

"Well, yes," Victoire admitted. "But, in this particular context, it's the acronym for Victoire's Revenge. And it'll look very cool in swirly letters. Now," she continued. "If you'd excuse me, I believe I'll be heading to dinner before the letter I have to write. I need to give Aunt Ginny enough time to sort through thirty-six years or so of blackmail material. Like mother, like daughter, like goddaughter." With that, she had pushed out into the hallway and was gone.

"Flashy," Amber commented.

Roxanne sighed. 'I'm pretty sure she was rehearsing this in her head on the way here from the Headmistress's office."

"Why did she get sent there?" Audran asked.

Maya snorted. "She accused Davies of wanting to have an affair with Transfiguration. McGargoyle was _not_ happy _."_

"I can't imagine why," Amber's lips twitched. "I wish she were in Slytherin. Right now, my roommates consist of Lady Hitler and the Bimbo Brains of the year. I have a sneaking suspicion the murders of one's roommates would NOT look good on one's resume."

"Which is why it's a very good thing Victoire _isn't_ sharing a room with Colette Nott," Maya pointed out.

A few second-year Hufflepuffs, scurrying from Charms towards the Great Hall for dinner heard the muffled, disembodied giggles and fled, taking rather drastic steps to avoid that part of the castle for the rest of their years at Hogwarts.

* * *

Victoire pranced into the Great Hall, squeezing herself between Teddy and his roommate, Sam Corner, and shoveling a pile of cupcakes onto her plate.

"That's not dinner," Teddy protested, as she licked the icing off the top of one of them. "It's a sugary, premature death!"

"Fine, _Mum_ ," Victoire said, rolling her eyes, and spooning a _very_ small clump of mashed potatoes onto her platter. "Happy?"

"Not quite," said Teddy, ignoring her pout as he reached across the table to serve a portion of salad next to her cupcakes. "Now, maybe your teeth won't rot out of your head."

"Spoilsport,' Victoire muttered to Sam. "You'd think he'd jump at the chance to escape Grandy's diets, but _nooo_. He's just as obsessive as she is." When Teddy wasn't looking, she dumped her salad onto his plate.

Sam sniggered into his goblet of pumpkin juice.

"So, you had Skeeter today," Teddy commented, eyeing his unusually large amount of salad critically. "What was it like? And you _totally_ just dumped your salad onto my plate, didn't you?"

"Whatever gave you that idea?" Victoire asked, eyes wide. "And Skeeter is evil and patronizing. Not anything out of the norm."

Teddy eyed her dubiously, but had the good sense to drop the subject. "Where are Roxanne and Maya?"

Victoire, whose mouth was full of chocolate cupcake and pink icing, mumbled something that sounded like she was choking to death, much to Sam's amusement and Teddy's distress. When she had sufficiently chewed her sugary, premature death, she managed "They'll be here soon," and reached for a platter of Pumpkin Pasties.

"Bad Vicky," Teddy reprimanded, pushing the platter out of reach. "Seriously, where are they, though?"

"Oh, around," Victoire said airily, then snatched at the tray of cupcakes again. Teddy wrapped his arms around her, pinning hers to her sides while she shrieked and struggled, lifting her into the air.

"Put me down!" Victoire fumed. "Aaaah! Put me _down_ , Teddy, or I swear you won't live to regret it!"

"You guys are causing a scene," came Maya's drawl from behind them. "Also, Vicky, I believe you promised some dinner entertainment, if you recall?"

"I am no position to do _anything_ at the moment," Victoire replied sulkily.

Teddy, realizing everyone's eyes were on the two of them, reluctantly set Victoire down on the bench beside him. "What do you mean, dinner entertainment?"

"Keep an eye on the Slytherin table," Victoire replied, seeing Felix, Audran, and Amber sit a few seats down from her latest victim and her cronies.

Pretending to focus on her food, Victoire twirled her wand seemingly absently, thinking _Levicorpus!_ as clearly as she could. There was a scream and a collective gasp from the Slytherin table, and, as she looked up, the very welcome sight of a certain spoiled Slytherin suspended by her ankle, robes tumbling over her head as she screamed and thrashed. Kiki and Bunny were gaping at her in shock, and, only a few feet away, their Slytherin allies were wearing much the same expressions. With a wicked grin, Victoire flicked her wand, thought _Liberacorpus!_ and Colette came crashing to the ground, tumbling into a large platter of shepherd's pie, and splattering the rest of the first-year Slytherins with food. There was a brief, tense silence, and the entire hall broke into screams of panic and terror.

The teachers rose to their feet and attempted to control the chaos, but after the Hufflepuff table had been overturned in the stampede to escape, there was no hope for any sort of order. Victoire chuckled to herself as panic turned into a food fight of epic proportions, and slipped out of the hall with a herd of second-year Ravenclaws.

Climbing the stairs to Gryffindor Tower, she gave the Fat Lady the password ("Puking Pastilles") and strolled into an empty common room, crossed to the dormitory stairs, and climbed to the boy's dorms, two steps at a time, peering through the doorways to search for Teddy's room. She found it at the end of the corridor—a poster of the Chudley Cannons was up over his bedside table, and his trunk was open at the foot of his bed, clothes strewn across the room. Victoire shook her head. Teddy may have been talented in most respects, but he really couldn't play Quidditch to save his life, and his taste in Quidditch teams . . . what could be said? Personally, Victoire blamed Uncle Ron.

She found the Marauder's Map rolled up and tucked in an old tin box that had once held a package of Drooble's Best Blowing Gum She tugged it out, and, creeping back out of his dorm and down the stairs, tapped it with her wand, whispering _I solemnly swear I am up to no good_ , and scanned it. There was Teddy's dot, already heading towards the moving staircases, and Roxanne's, and Maya's, and Colette's . . . there was Noah, and Sam Corner, and . . . _there_! Rita Skeeter's name was pacing back and forth in her office. She squinted at it. It looked almost as if a drop of in had spilled . . . partially obscuring Skeeter's name. Victoire chuckled to herself. It seemed to be true-even Marauders made mistakes. I mean, look at Uncle Harry!

Satisfied, Victoire climbed to her own dorm room and lifted the lid of her trunk, snatching several pieces of parchments and her favorite thestral-feather quill, a gift from Aunt Luna last Christmas. Setting a bottle of violet ink on her nightstand and dipping her quill in it, she started her letter to Ginny.

 **Hi Gin,**

 **As I'm certain you're aware, a certain bloodsucking journalist has taken up the Defense post here at Hogwarts, to the delight of all concerned, as I'm sure you have expected. I have the inklings of a plan to make her miserable, but I need your help. I'm positive that you have blackmail on a certain Draco Malfoy, who, fancy that, happens to be the chair for the Hogwarts Board of Governors. What a coincidence. I'd appreciate it if you could get the blackmail material here by the day after tomorrow, and you'll see why.**

 **Love you,**

 **Your favorite niece and goddaughter,**

 **Vicky**

 **P. S. Have you ever heard of the Zabini family? I don't know much about them.**

Victoire blew on the ink to dry it, then neatly folded the letter and slid it into the waiting. She still had many more letters to pen—or rather, quill—as her family was extensive and all wanted a report of her first day at Hogwarts. Her mother and father would want a letter . . . Dominique would want one of her own, and so would Louis . . . and then the Weasley grandparents would want one, and of course all of her aunts and uncles . . . she sighed, and picked up her quill, scribbling out each correspondence with sleepy precision, until the sentences from each letter began to blend together . . .

 **. . . I don't think that you can go swimming in the Black Lake, Louis, at least without freezing. No offense, but it was really stupid of you to take that bet. Maybe Fred will have forgotten about it by the time you guys go to Hogwarts . . .**

 **. . . Dear Mum and Dad, yes, I did bring my Jetstream 3000 with me in my trunk, but I promise I won't get caught. I know first years aren't allowed their own broomsticks, but honestly, can you really call a Jetstream a 'broomstick?' It's more like a piece of art . . . '**

 **. . . and enclosed is a Hogwarts toilet seat, from Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Also, you'll be pleased to hear, Uncle George, that I already have two detentions tonight, one for making the Sorting Hat blubber and the other for pissing off Percy's old girlfriend . . .**

 **. . . and Lils, set fire to Uncle Percy for me, kay? I love you, and will see you at Christmas . . .**

 **. . . thanks for the fudge, Grandma, and I'll send you a picture of me, Roxanne, Teddy, and this girl I met, Maya, as soon as Dad can send me my camera, I left it at home . . .**

 **. . . Dom, I won't be expelled** **before - I figure out how to get into the Chamber of Secrets-** **ever. Stop worrying . . .**

 **. . . and Teddy is doing well, Grandy, and I think he's been possessed by your spirit . .**

Victoire yawned, stretching sleepily. Roxanne, Maya, Wendy Castel, and Belle Robins had come up from dinner hours ago, and had headed to the showers to hose off the remnants of the food fight. Maya and Belle were snoozing in their beds, Maya sprawled with a her robes still on, clutching a pillow to her face, and Belle tucked in with her flowered pajamas peeking out from under her duvet. Wendy had little pygmy puffs all over her pajamas and had burrowed herself under the covers like a hedgehog in its burrow, Roxanne had dozed off at the desk in the corner, mid-sentence, and, peering over her shoulder, Victoire saw a smudge of red ink and **_Mum, don't ask me what Vic's up to, because I have no clue, but whatever it is, it'll be really unpleasant for somebody, and probably not for her . . ._** Victoire sniggered and, carefully lifting Roxanne's cheek, slid a pillow under her head and turned back to her letters. She still had her letter to Aunt Hermione to write, and the order for Weasley's Wizard Wheezes to fill out . . . come to think of it, she could just volunteer Skeeter as a test subject for George and Ron. Smiling happily, she added a postscript to her letter to the recipient of the Hogwarts toilet seat, and grabbed a new piece of parchment for Hermione's letter.

 **Dear Aunt Hermione,**

 **I really am enjoying my first day here at Hogwarts, I mean, the food is wonderful, the classes are lovely, and -** **I'm going to sneak into the Forbidden Forest tomorrow night and find the centaurs -** **I feel like I'm learning so much. Potions is really fascinating, I think our Professor has a really interesting approach to things, -** **though, of course, you could make even her technique sound boring and overly complicated -** **where, instead of having us make potions, she's teaching us the magical properties of the ingredients and how they affect the potion.** **Also, - I have a secret organization plotting to overthrow Rita Skeeter-** **I have a homework assignment to share an unusual spell with the Transfiguration class. Could you tell me what spell you used to make that piece of parchment with the names of members of the D. A. be cursed to make the betrayer be branded a SNEAK?**

 **Thanks,**

 **Your niece,**

 **Victoire C. Weasley**

Victoire copied the letter, minus the scratched-out parts, onto a fresh piece of parchment and placed the envelope containing it onto the now enormous pile. Holding her robes like a basket and scooping the letters into the cloth, she made her way out of the dorm and towards the Owlery.

She still had about ten minutes before her first detention. Selecting a barn owl from the rows of school owls, she tied the letters for Shell Cottage to his leg and tossed him toward the window. Giving Victoire a disgruntled look, he took off, soaring into the fading light. By the time Victoire had sent all her letters, she felt as though she had used half the school owls and was nearly late for her detention with Professor Snyde.

* * *

By the time she made it to the dungeons, she _was_ late, by about ten minutes. The Potions Professor was bent over a cauldron, letting drops from an eyedropper of shiny, black liquid drip into the potion. Victoire did not stand awkwardly in the doorway, but pulled up a chair and watched as Merula let the last drop fall, stoked the fire underneath her cauldron, and tossed in several large, round, purple beans from a jar on her desk.

"Do you know what this contains?" Snyde asked sharply, brandishing her eyedropper. Victoire jumped.

"Thestral blood?" Victoire guessed.

Professor Snyde eyed her suspiciously. "How did you—"

"Um, there's more over on that shelf, and they're labeled," Victoire admitted.

Snyde relaxed, her violet eyes scrutinizing Victoire. "You're quite observant, for an eleven-year-old."

"An eleven-year-old part-Veela," Victoire corrected. "We have heightened sense. Sight, sound, smell—we're quite aware."

Snyde said nothing, taking a gold rod from a rack behind her desk and stirring the potion once counterclockwise, twice clockwise, over and over and over. The potion, once a bruised purple, was turning black.

"What are you brewing?" Victoire asked.

Snyde withdrew the rod and laid it back on the shelf, wiping her hands on her robes. "This is a potion called the Necromancer's Wine, or, less commonly known as the Angel's Trumpet Draught. It weakens the veil between life and death for the drinker, allows them to converse with the dead for a few moments. Unfortunately, besides being illegal in nearly every part of the world, including England, it weakens the sanity of the drinker to such an extreme they nearly always die, either of their own insanity, or the draining of their life force when the dead attempt to use the drinker as a . . . bridge of sorts to re-enter the world of the living. I am trying to fix this." Snyde looked a Victoire, as if to dare her to comment on the fact that her professor was brewing an illegal potion, but the girl only grinned.

Victoire watched as Snyde lifted a large crate from a high shelf in the corner of the Potions classroom. For such a slight woman, she seemed incredibly strong, perhaps around the same age, or slightly younger, than her parents. She was striking, and harsh-looking in a captivating sort of way, and Victoire wondered absently whether she was going to start the detention anytime soon. The professor crossed the room again, carrying the crate, and, setting it on the table, measured out a fine black powder on a set of silver scales.

"Powdered dragonbone," she told Victoire. "It's to counteract the beans I placed in earlier, the Venomous Tentacula fruit. The fruit is to poison the drinker enough to create a . . . passage to the land of the dead, but the powdered dragonbone acts as a shield against the dead. A barrier, if you will." Snyde tipped the contents of the scales into the cauldron, which was suddenly alight with purple fire. Looking pleased. Snyde took a jar from the shelf and unscrewed the lid, revealing a sickly yellow liquid that bubbles and rippled like living molasses.

"Basilisk syrup?" Victoire read from the label.

Snyde nodded "Very rare. And not called for in the original recipe. There are a lot of magical properties in this item, including a forifying component that keeps the drinker alert, or would if it wasn't poisonous. Now, if we counteract the venom with a blossom from the Whomping Willow, courtesy of Professor Longbottom . . ."

* * *

Victoire was late for her second detention. She wished she could have just served out her detention with Snyde, having spent it making the illegal Necromancer's Wine potion without a hint of actual chore, but _no_. She had to scrub bedpans under the merciless regime of Matron Lisa Turpin-Bones. It was a disgrace.

The formidable Matron Turpin-Bones herself was waiting in her office when Victoire scrambled through the door in disarray, her hair flying in fifty different directions and her school bag thrown hastily over her shoulder. Sitting at her desk, light blonde hair pulled back in a bun, sharp eyes fixed on Victoire, she looked furious.

"Sorry I'm late, Matron," she gasped, bending over with her hands on her knees. "I had to run here from the dungeons—"

"The bedpans are in the store room, Miss Weasley," said Matron Bones coldly.

With a sigh, Victoire dragged her school bag and herself back out of the woman's office and into the store room at the end of the rows of white-sheeted hospital beds. This was not going to be as much fun as her first detention.

* * *

' " **R** edundant," Victoire sang, dipping her Th **E** stral-feather quill in the ink pot. "And, Uncle Harry did it once and he's alive."

A **V** ein in Teddy's forehead pulsed purple, and he was starting to grow a Vernon-worthy moustache **I** n his fury. "UNCLE HARRY WAS THE ARCH-N **E** MESIS OF VOLDEMORT! HE DIED. AND CAME BACK. YOU CAN'T COME BACK **W** HEN YOU DIE, AND QUIDDITCH IS DEATH!" '


	7. Chapter Six

Victoire's knuckles were red and blistered, and the smell hadn't gotten any better in the past two hours. The sound of the rough-bristled brush on the tin was grating on her nerves, and she was exhausted.

Drifting off for the fifth time that evening, Victoire was jolted awake by the sound of a door slamming in the Hospital Wing, behind the curtain that lead from the store room to the hospital beds. A moment later, a hushed, angry conversation started up outside, but she couldn't make out the world. Carefully setting the bedpan and the brush on the floor, Victoire crept to the curtain and pulled the fleshy string of Uncle George's old classic, Extendable Ears.

Feeding one end on the fleshy string into her ears and the other under the curtain, the hushed whispers became audible. Victoire smothered a gasp. What was Kingsley Shacklebolt doing in the hospital wing? For that matter, what was he doing at Hogwarts?

"Lisa, I assure you that I mean no—" Kingsley was saying soothingly, but was abruptly cut off with what sounded like a slap. "Lisa, please, you must listen to me—"

"No, Kingsley!" the matron snapped, her voice rising before dropping again, obviously afraid Victoire would overhear. "I don't care what odd things are afoot, you don't have a search warrant and I'm not compromising my patient's confidentiality! This is a ridiculous request!"

"Nevertheless, Lisa, it is drastically important to the safety of our world," said Kingsley, his voice calm, deceivingly quiet, but betraying a hint of desperation. "The lives at stake—"

"Are nothing more than leftover paranoia from a man still under the impression that we're in the midst of a war," Matron Bones hissed. "Mr. Shacklebolt, I must ask you to leave or I'll summon security. You are trespassing and invading the privacy of my patient! This is against Hogwarts policy. Out!"

The door to the Hospital Wing slammed, and Victoire yanked the flesh-colored string from her ears and dove across the room, stuffing them in her pocket and snatching up the brush and bedpan.

When Matron Bones peered suspiciously around the curtain, Victoire was nodding off over a pile of clean bedpans.

"That will be sufficient, Miss Weasley," the matron told her. Rubbing her eyes in feigned sleepiness that was actually quite real, Victoire stumbled past the woman, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

* * *

By the time she made it back to Gryffindor Tower, her head was spinning like a Weasley Wizard Wheezes' Trademark Self-Spinning Edible Top With Light-Up Candy Stripes. What information had Kingsley wanted that had Matron Bones so upset? And since when had Hogwarts had security? What were the odd-goings-on the matron had mentioned? And why had Kingsley sounded so . . .frightened?

Roxanne was still asleep at her desk, but seemed to be a few more letters along. Her cheek had smudged the end of a line: _and Fred, next time you dare Louis, try to choose something a bit less lethal_ _. ._ . Victoire chuckled to herself, gently shaking Roxanne's shoulder until she opened her eyes.

"Go away," her cousin grumbled. "I have three point nine six four billion letters to write because my family is inconveniently enormous. And you're my relative, so I hate you too. We breed like rabbits."

"I finished mine ages ago, while you were in the foodfight, and already sent them," said Victoire smugly. "So-called Miss Future Goody-Two-Shoes-Prefect, huh?"

"Hate you," Roxanne mumbled.

"No, you don't, grumpy." Victoire poked her. "Come on. I was at detention with Bones and I heard this really weird conversation. I wanna tell you so you can be confused and I can stop."

"You shouldn't be eavesdropping," Roxanne reprimanded.

Victoire rolled her eyes. "Pur-lease. We're practically related to the Marauders, anyway. Do you wanna hear what Kingsley said or not?"

Roxanne gaped at her. "Kingsley? As in, godfather to my little brother, Kingsley?"

Victoire nodded, scrambling over to sit on Roxanne's bed. Roxanne followed. "Mm-hmm. I was scrubbing bedpans when I heard a door slam and used my Extendable Ears to hear what they were saying. Apparently, Kingsley upset Matron Bones because he wanted information on one of her patients. I think she slapped him. Then she ranted about how she didn't care about any 'odd goings-on' and threatened to call security on him when he tried to pull the whole 'lives are at stake' thing. Oh, also, she said the 'whole thing,' whatever the whole thing was, is just 'the paranoia of a man still under the impression we're in the midst of a war.' It was absolutely HILARIOUS."

"I wonder whose file he was after," Roxanne mused. "It must be a student or a teacher, right? I mean, she doesn't treat anyone else, just everyone in the castle."

"I suppose." Victoire rubbed her forehead. "Oh, well. We'll have to sneak into her office tomorrow night. I guess I'll have to cancel my plans for the Forbidden Forest."

"I know you too well to hope you were kidding," Roxanne moaned. "Let's go back to sleep."

* * *

The next morning, Victoire awoke to Margaux sleeping on her chest. The little fox was breathing evenly, and seemed to be fast asleep, so Victoire lay there, staring at her canopy, stroking her familiar's soft fur. She had been woken by static coming from somewhere else in the room, and, craning her neck a little, she could see Belle Robins fiddling with the knobs on the Wizarding Wireless she had pulled out of her trunk. Maya was sprawled on the bed next to her, tossing Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans into her mouth. Wendy was watching with interest.

"Custard," Maya announced. Roxanne scowled and handed over a Sickle. She was sitting cross-legged at the foot of Belle's bed, still in her pajamas. She had her quills and parchment out as she finished the last of her letters to their relatives, using One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi as a surface.

"It's the Tornadoes vs. Harpies game,' said Belle excitedly, still frowning at her radio. "Or at least, it would be if I could get this to work."

"No need. We already know the outcome," said Victoire airily. "Harpies are obviously superior."

"In your dreams, Weasley," Maya called. "What's this one, do you think?"

"Muggle root beer," Roxanne suggested.

"Cherry fruit leather?" Wendy ventured.

Maya popped the bean into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully.

"Blood," she said finally. "Definitely blood."

"Merlin and Morgana!" Roxanne swore. "My turn." she selected a grungy yellow bean from the bag.

"Hair," Belle suggested.

"I vote for fingernails," Wendy giggled. She seemed to have cottoned on to the way the Every-Flavor-Beans worked.

"Acorns, maybe?" Maya didn't look convinced. Roxanne and Victoire shared a look.

"We know what it is," they said together.

"What?" Maya and Belle looked bewildered.

"Alas," Roxanne began.

"Earwax," Victoire finished. They burst into giggles. Maya and Belle wouldn't leave them alone until they explained what was so funny, and so Roxanne and Victoire recounted the tale to great giggles from their roommates.

"I don't know about you guys, but I'm really hungry," Victoire stretched, letting Margaux slide of her stomach. The vixen gave her mistress a disgruntled look and stalked off, offended.

"Vicky, dear," said Maya slowly. "It's five in the morning. Breakfast isn't going to be served for another three hours."

"Which is why we're going to the kitchens," Victoire explained. She had memorized the route to the kitchens, of course. Wasn't it essential? "Come on, guys. Belle, you bring the radio. Let's hear the Tornadoes get pulverized."

"Not gonna happen," Belle grinned. "But I am hungry. Let's go."

All five snuck out of the dorms, past the disapproving expression of the Fat Lady, and down towards the kitchens, completely conspicuous with their giggles and trampling. They reached the painting of the fruit bowl in no time at all, however, without being caught by the Hogwarts staff.

"What now?" Belle whispered.

"We tickle the pear," Victoire replied, doing so.

"That's sil—" Wendy was cut off as, with a giggle from the green fruit, the painting swung inward to reveal a cozy room in butter yellows and golds, and furnished with an abundance of coffee tables and overstuffed, pale pink armchairs. Through the swinging double doors at the back of the room, a clattering of pots and the delicious smell wafting through them suggested that the elves had already started on breakfast for the castle.

As soon as the four of them had settled into their seats then an elf wearing a blanket with the Hogwarts insignia on it came bustling through the door, his ears tucked under a wool cap. He was carrying a feather duster, but this was discarded as his eyes widened at the sight of them. "Guests!" he squeaked. "Trinky, Paddy, Fluddy, Spinky! We is having GUESTS!"

At once, three more elves in red, blue, yellow, and pink blankets burst through the doors eagerly. "Food! Hungry guests will be wanting food!" cried the one in the pink blanket, then hurried up to Victoire. "Me is being Spinky! What is Guest be wanting?"

"Hi Spinky. I'm . . er, Vicky. I'd like some pancakes, please." Victoire gave the elf a smile.

"So polite! Spinky is thinking perhaps some peoples can be learning from Mistress Vicky," the elf declared. "Mistress Vicky is having pancakes!" he hollered, skipping back through the double doors. Victoire laughed at his saucy grin.

"Mistress Roxy is wanting waffles!" hollered the elf in the blue towel.

"Mistress Belle is be wanting the granola!" called the elf in the red towel.

"Mistress Wendy is be having the porridges!" cried the yellow-toweled elf.

"And me is being Blitty, and and Mistress Maya is having waffles also," the first elf announced, then they all sipped back into the kitchen, shouting happily.

A moment later, they were digging into their meals. Roxanne ahd fixed Belle's radio, and they were listening to the commentary of the Tornadoes vs. Harpies Quidditch match. Much to Victoire's smug delight, the Holyhead Harpies were up 80-120. They passed the morning like this, and when the Seeker for the Harpies, Penny Haywood, caught the Snitch. Victoire was giving a disgruntled Maya and a disappointed Belle knowing looks for the rest of the day.

* * *

When Victoire hardly touched her breakfast, Teddy panicked and dragged her down to the Hospital Wing in a panic. Victoire managed to escape just in time with the excuse that she had flying lessons early that morning, and, as soon as Teddy turned green and excused himself at the idea of leaving the ground, she scrambled out into the grounds.

"So glad you could join us, Miss Weasley." Katie Bell-Wood was standing in front of the class, leaning on her own sleek Jetstream 3000, smirking slightly at the shocked expression on Victoire's face. She was wearing rumpled blue and gold, and had her dirty-blond hair pulled back in a ponytail.

"Kates! I thought you were on tour with Puddlemere!" Victoire exclaimed

Katie ruffled her hair. "I would be if Ollie hadn't gone and broken his arm and put the whole team out of commission for the season."

"Yes!" Victoire punched the air happily. "I mean, oh, that's awful."

The rest of the class was staring at the two of them in shock, except Roxanne, who was examining her own school broom with varying degrees of distaste. The first-year Slytherins looked horrified at Victoire's interaction with the teacher.

Katie rolled her eyes. "I practically raise you in regard to your flying abilities and you still end up supporting the Holyhead Harpies. It's an abomination."

"So, how did you end up teaching here?" Victoire asked, giving her a cheeky wink.

"I needed something to occupy myself for the rest of the year, of course." Katie explained. "Blake is staying over with Alicia's folks—your family," she clarified for Noah's benefit, "-for the rest of the season anyway, Richard doesn't mind his old mum in his way all that much, and I'm not getting any younger. I think I'll be retiring soon, and that means coaching with Ollie-boy for the rest of my days, it seems. Can't hurt to get some practice."

Spencer Fawley, who was half-hidden behind Roxanne and Maya, peeked out. "Are you Katie Bell?"

"Bell-Wood, actually," Katie corrected.

"And, uh, Ollie-boy is . . . "

"Oliver Wood, yes."

"Awesome!" exclaimed Spencer.

"Now," Katie said, clapping her hands. "Who wants to get on a broomstick!"

"Me! Me! Me!" Victoire clapped her hands.

"All right. Everyone put one hand out over your broomsticks and shout UP!"

They chorused the word.

Victoire's shot into her palm immediately. So did the Safiq twins', and Belle's. Spencer and Caleb's rolled over once before shooting upwards. Colette's broomstick shot into her hand almost immediately, which left Kiki, Bunny, Felix, Wendy, and Noah shouting vainly at their broomsticks as they turned over on the ground.

"For those of you whose broomsticks have not responded, please reach down and pick them up," Katie said, finally. "Now, mount your broomsticks and kick off at the count of three. One, two, three . . . "

Victoire's heel pushed off and she was soaring into the air, the familiar elation at being airborne coursing through her body. She swooped into a dive, the handle of her broom smooth under her fingertips, then pulled up at the last second and skimmed over the surface of the lake, reaching out to let her fingers drag in the water . . .

She streamlined her body and streaked back to where Katie had taken out a chest of Quidditch equipment, landing smoothly and slinging her broom over her shoulder. Colette Nott whispered something to Bunny, and they both giggled.

"Now, as I hope at least some of you know, this is a Quaffle," Katie was saying, holding up the large, red-leather ball with one hand. "Are there any Muggleborns here?"

"I'm one," said Caleb. "But my father's sister-in-law is a witch. She was the first who realized I was magic, actually."

Wendy raised a shy hand. "My parents are computer programmers." Most of the other students gave her blank looks at such gibberish. Colette Nott, however, gave Caleb and Wendy a dark look, and was opening her mouth to say something when she doubled over, gasping and clutching her stomach in pain. Victoire had stumbled over her broom and 'accidentally' shoved the handle into Colette's kidneys.

"Oops," Victoire giggled. "Silly me."

Katie gave her an odd look, but turned back to explaining the rules of Quidditch and the purposes of the balls and bats, and demonstrating how the Quaffle fit perfectly pressed between one's side and your upper arm when you were flying quickly, and the correct way to hold a Beater's bat.

"And this," she continued, "Is the golden snitch."

Victoire looked at the glittering, fluttering creature in Katie's hand and was instantly in love. The delicate wings hissed through the air as it struggled, tantalizingly . . . she was transfixed.

Katie began to explain the snitch had originally replaced a small bird called a Golden Snidget, as the bird was becoming endangered and could no longer be used for Quidditch.

"Now, as first-years, none of you will be able to catch the snitch," Katie continued. "So we'll play with the Quaffle and the Bludgers for a while shall we?" She moved to put the snitch back in the case, but Victoire held out a hand.

"May I?"

"Of course." Katie placed winged ball in Victoire's palm, and she held it up to her face, smiling at its glittering surface, then loosening her fingers just enough so that it whisked free of her grasp and darted away.

"Oopsy daisy," Victoire said, giving Katie a grin. "Butterfingers, that's me." She sighed. "I guess I'll have to go get it now."

Katie gave her a knowing look, but she was already in the air and soaring upwards. The snitch had disappeared, but she didn't feel rushed. Below them, Katie was organizing a Quidditch match of sorts on the pitch with, a boy named Taylor Avery as Seeker on the Slytherin team.

The pale boy was already rising up to meet her, and Victoire ignored him, focusing on the air over the pitch. Avery was just behind her now, hovering, staring at her.

"A Weasley," came the sneer. "I should have known. You're the daughter of that Veela girl, aren't you?"

"It isn't polite to stalk," Victoire replied automatically, her eyes flickering back and forth.

There was a huff of irritation from behind her, as, below her, Maya scored another goal on Felix, who had a tendency to cover his head with his arms whenever the Quaffle came near him. Belle caught it and swooped around for another shot.

"Like there would be anyone who didn't know about your famous celebrity family," Avery sneered.

"How redundant," Victoire replied. "Famous, celebrity . . . they kind of go together, you know?"

Caleb shot a Bludger towards Bunny, knocking her off her broom. Since the girl hadn't moved more than six inches off the ground, and kept her eyes squeezed tightly shut, this didn't make much of a difference.

"You're not very alluring, for a Veela," Avery replied. "I might even go so far to say that you're ridiculously unpleasant to experience.."

"How trite of you," Victoire replied. "I hear that every day."

"But then, you're a Weasley. Who could expect more from a family that marries mudbloods—"

Victoire whirled around so quickly her hair flew out behind her. Snatching the front of Avery's robes and shoving her face against his wide eyes, she spoke in a low, dangerous voice. "Listen to me, you inbred little piece of sh—"

She froze, glancing over Avery's shoulder. There, hovering behind him, was the snitch.

Avery seemed to realize what her expression meant, because he wrenched himself free and attempted to turn his broom. Victoire shoved him away and went into a dive, her hand outstretched for the tiny object as it sped downwards.

"Victoire!" Katie was calling. "You have to pull up, you're going to—"

Crash, Victoire thought, but she didn't pull up. She was speeding towards the ground, practically faster than falling, and the snitch was so close . . .

And it was levelling out and streaking towards the far side of the pitch, and Victoire did the same. And that blur speeding towards the ground was Avery, his hand outstretched. She would never make it in time . . .

She was kicking off her shoes, wrapping her bare toes around her broom and standing, still racing, at the end of her broomstick, and her hand was closing around the snitch . . .

* * *

The Hogwarts library was generally quiet. It was supposed to be quiet. The who-knows-how-ancient librarian, Irma Pince, who sat behind her counter with her ear trumpet and her Muggle revolver, wanted it to be quiet.

It was not quiet now.

Victoire was sitting calmly at a table, her History of Magic homework as well as several books spread out in front of her. Her signature purple ink was in the pot in front of her, and her quill was scratching away calmly at her essay on Voldemort's method of return. She was including the incantation supplied by Uncle Harry, as well as his first-hand experience of it, for extra credit. No, she wasn't the one making the noise. But technically, she was the cause of it.

"-completely out of your mind! Standing on a broom? Do you actually have a death wish? Or is it just the influence of every Quidditch-obsessed lunatic in our insane lunatic family?"

"Redundant," Victoire sang, dipping her Thestral-feather quill in the ink pot. "And, Uncle Harry did it once and he's alive."

A vein in Teddy's forehead pulsed purple, and he was starting to grow a Vernon-worthy moustache in his fury. "UNCLE HARRY WAS THE ARCH-NEMESIS OF VOLDEMORT! HE DIED. AND CAME BACK. YOU CAN'T COME BACK WHEN YOU DIE, AND QUIDDITCH IS DEATH!"

"Calm down, or Pince-y's going to shoot you," Victoire replied, unfazed. "Bone of the father came first, didn't it?"

"You call her Pince-y?" Maya, who had been crouching under the table with Roxanne during Teddy's tirade peered out. "You really do have a death wish, missy."

"And so do you," Roxanne retorted, pulling Maya back under the table as Victoire turned purple at 'missy.'

"Relax, Teds, I'm only the youngest Seeker since Uncle Harry," said Victoire, scribbling blood of the father, unknowingly given on her parchment. "I'll be fine. He was fine, anyway."

"First year," said Teddy, with deceptive calmness. "Nearly swallowed the snitch."

"It was odd circumstances, and useful in the long run—"

"Second year, had all the bones in his arm removed."

"Lockhart was an idiot, that had nothing to do with-"

"Third year. Attacked by dementors."

"Oh, come on. That's hardly relevant, anyway."

"Fourth year. No Quidditch, but games of death. Which, I'm sure, you would sign up for in a heartbeat."

"This is completely off-topic!" Victoire paused. "And also completely fair, I suppose."

"Fifth year. Arrrgh." Teddy put his head in his hands. "So many things went wrong that year."

Victoire folded her arms and scowled. "Just because I've become a Seeker in first year doesn't mean that I'm going to be attacked by Voldemort."

"It is entirely plausible, however, that you would break into the Ministry of Magic on thestrals," said the table, in Maya's voice. There was a muffled grunt as Roxanne silenced her.

"Sixth year—"

"Enough!' Victoire threw up her hands. "Stop it, will you? I didn't ask to be Seeker!"

"Actually, you kind of did—ouch, Roxy! Why are you so violent?"

Teddy ran his hands through his hair, which was now fading from a sort of purplish brown back to a calmer turquoise. "Vic, please. I'm worried. You have a . . . a penchant . . . for getting into bad situations. You scare grown-ups."

Victoire rolled her eyes. "Pur-lease. I do not scare grown-ups."

Roxanne sounded hesitant. "Er, actually you do. Remember when your mum used to take us shopping and leave us in the waiting room of Madam Malkin's when she was being fitted?"

"And these little old ladies would come up to us and ask us questions about our friends and our pets and our siblings and oooh, are we even related?" said Teddy with disgust. "And then ask us what we wanted to be when we grew up?"

"And I would say something like Minister of Magic," said the table.

"And I'd say I wanted to be an Auror," Teddy continued. "And then what did you say?"

"You said you wanted to be Voldemort went you grew up," said Roxanne.

Victoire's lips twitched. "I have no memory of this."

"Anyway, we're off-topic," Teddy interrupted. "Vic, Quidditch is dangerous. Especially for eleven-year-old _girls_!"

"Oh no, you've done it now," muttered the table.

Victoire turned icy. "What did you say?"

Teddy turned pale, and when a Metamorphmagus turns pale, he's practically albino.

"I—I didn't mean—Vic, listen—"

Victoire stood up so sharply her chair fell over. "No, you listen to me. It is my decision, not yours, Teddy Remus Lupin! I am going to be the Gryffindor Seeker, and I'm and bloody well going to be brilliant at it. Yes, I am a girl. I'm a bloody talented girl, thank you very much! So is Katie, and she's broken five different records for speed and agility. So you can go back to whatever it is you do all day, because I am finishing my essay and attend to some girl things, if you'd excuse me!"

Victoire scooped her schoolwork into her bag and stormed off, leaving Teddy alone with Roxanne and Maya, who decided to stay under the table for the moment.

"I didn't mean it like that!" Teddy protested feebly. "She didn't have to react like that . . ."

"I'm sure you didn't,' said the table soothingly, in Roxanne's voice. "But she's Victoire. She's always going to react like that."

Teddy sighed, rubbing his forehead. "I just want her to be safe."

"This is talking about the girl who sets fire to her uncle on a daily basis, right? Ouch, Roxy!"

* * *

Victoire finished her essay and set it on her nightstand. She may have been a troublemaker, but she wasn't an incompetent troublemaker. She sighed, rubbing her eyes. She'd be sneaking off to look through Matron Bones's filing cabinet soon, and she still needed to see if Ginny had sent a reply.

As if on cue there was a rapping on the window near her bed. Getting up, she crossed the room and opened it to find the fluffy face of Ginny's owl, Pigwidgeon Jr. He had a bundle on his leg, and was bouncing happily, nearly tumbling off the windowsill.

Lifting him into the room, Victoire untied the bundle excitedly, seeing her aunt's familiar writing on the package.

 _Hey Vicky,_

 _I am sooo glad you're going to be doing something about that horrible woman. And, of course I have blackmail on Draco Malfoy! Who do you take me for, Ron? Kidding, I know your opinion of me isn't that lowly._

 _I have lots of different material, but this is my favorite of all. It's actually a funny story. In my fourth year, Pansy Parkinson wanted blackmail on her dear ol' boyfriend, so we . . . collaborated. As you can see, we knocked out Crabbe, Goyle, and Malfoy and took a rather . . . you could call it a suggestive photo of their intertwined limbs. (Of course, when this was done, I Stunned Parkinson and had her wedged between Crabbe and Goyle. It's every blackmailer for herself, I say.) So, good luck! And remember, don't get caught!_

 _Love and blackmail,_

 _Your godmum,_

 _Ginny_

 _P. S. I looked up the Zabini family in Andromeda's copy of "Wizarding Families of Europe.' They're_

 _an Italian family from Florence, and were neutral during the 're considered rather . . . odd by the rest of the pureblood community. Eccentric. I think I Bat-Bogey-Hexed one once. Blass? Maybe? Odd name. Anyway, they seem all right, if rater snobby, but then again, are there purebloods who aren't? Why do you ask?_

Victoire ripped open the package, revealing several rather puke-worthy photos of a blond teen, snoring, and wrapped around two incredibly ugly, hulking visions of . . . boys? It was certainly very incriminating, and played along to Victoire's plan. The Daily Prophet would eat up a rumor about Draco Malfoy's . . . romantic explorations in his youth. She pulled out another piece of parchment and set it on the nightstand in front of her, composing a letter to her godmother.

Hey Gin,

Thank you so much for the blackmail material! I do so love your presents. I promise that Rita Skeeter will wish I was never born by the time I'm done with her. Anyway, I have so much to tell you—it's been really . . . eventful over here! I forgot to mention in my last letter that I've made a nemesis! (Possibly two, by this point. And this isn't counting Skeeter.)

My first is Colette Nott, who's this very pretty, snobbish Slytherin girl with a couple of bimbo cronies and you'll never believe their names. Kiki Davis and, wait for it . . . Bunny Flint. They're impossibly shallow, but Colette's a real threat. You'd be proud of me for my excellent taste in enemies.

The second one is Taylor Avery, also Slytherin. Before you say anything, I still hold to my opinion that Slytherins are NOT all conniving, evil creatures bent on world domination and force-feeding people mushrooms, (The root of all evil.) I think I would have ended up in Slytherin, if I hadn't made the Sorting Hat blubber, which is a VERY interesting story 'm not gonna tell you about until Christmas.

Also, I made the Quidditch team! Teddy's been a chauvinistic pig about it, so I'm ignoring him. Goodness knows that pre-teen boys need their attention. He'll crack within twenty-four hours and apologise, you'll see. I'm Seeker, of course, and I I snatched the snitch right out from under Avery's nose! He nearly fell off his broom. It was great.

Unfortunately, my birthday is before Uncle Harry's, so I'm only the youngest Seeker since his time. Give your darling husband a pinch from me, won't you? Thank you ever so much On the more technically sie, I'm the youngest female Seeker in Hogwarts history, which I'm not sure to be thrilled or angry about. The Wizarding World can be such a pain. Something I intend to fix.

Ooh! I almost forgot! I overheard this very odd conversation between my best friend's little brother's godfather, and the Hogwarts matron. It sounded very suspicious, and I'll talk to you about it as soon as I can. I know I sound paranoid, but trust me, you would too if you had heard what I did. The aforesaid best friend and I are sneaking into the matron's office tonight to look at something they were discussing . . . if I don't come back, send dragons, kay?

Love,

Vicky

P. S. I wanted to ask about the Zabini's cuz' I have added one to my little group (one which Teddy, in his present state of mind, is excluded.) Her name is Maya, and she's Gryffindor (chose to be, after the Sorting Hat broke down) and she's awesome, which, as you know, means a lot, coming from me. She says she has a blood-traitor . . . aunt, maybe, who works as a curse-breaker for Gringotts, like my dad. Melisse, I think?

Anyway, more love from your favorite niece,

Vicky

Victoire sealed the letter with a drip of wax from her candle, pressing the insignia of her robes into the soft substance. The result was rather impressive. She made a mental note to ask Uncle George for a seal of her own—he was starting a line of personalized ones—when she wrote to him for 'supplies' for Project Rita Scarpers.

"Hey, Widgey!" she called, and snatched the little owl out of the air as he miscalculated and zoomed past. "Take this home, kay? Make sure Harry doesn't see it, or he'll tell Mum, and I'm dead. He has no sense of adventure, or blackmail. Give Lils a kiss for me, alright, you ridiculous owl?"

Pig Jr. gave a awkward squawk of delight and flew into the side of the window several times before making it out into the dusk. Rolling her eyes, Vic screwed the lid onto her inkpot and and reached up to the canopy over her bed. There, hidden next to her Jetstream 3000, was the Marauder's Map.

She took it down and tapped it, whispering I solemnly swear I am up to no good. It was the simple truth, after all.

* * *

' "What's going on?" came a voice from above them. Maya was standing at the top of the gi **R** l's staircase, looking b **E** wildered at the sight of Teddy on his knees, clutching **V** ictoire's hand in his. Her eyes widened.

"Are you proposing?" Maya asked, **I** ncredulous.

"No!" said T **E** ddy, exasperated.

"Yes," said Victoire, unperturbed.

"He's apologising," Roxanne explained. "And Vic has **W** eird standards." '


	8. Chapter Seven

Victoire and Roxanne waited until the others were snoring (or, in Maya's case, definitely _not_ snoring, as it was undignified) before creeping out of the dorms, clutching Victoire's Jetstream. Roxanne was still hesitant about this whole sneaking into the Matron of Death's office, but Victoire had assured you that it was perfectly safe.

She didn't say _who_ it was perfectly safe _for_. In fact, it was _very_ safe for those too far away to be hit by the aftermath, if Matron Bones caught them. They hadn't been here long, but teddy had told them stories.

Ah, Speak of the devil. Or rather, _think_ of the devil. A very _angry_ devil.

Teddy was standing at the top of the stairs in his violet-colored nightshirt, which Victoire would remember to tease him about later, when his head wasn't so close to exploding. He had his arms folded across his chest, his turquoise hair smoldering on the ends. It was not a pleasant smell.

"What do you think you're doing?" Teddy demanded.

Roxanne tried to hide the Marauder's Map behind her back, but it was too late. The Metamorphmagus had seen it.

"So that's where it went!" Teddy glowered. "What were you doing in my dorm?"

"I happened to be passing, so I thought I'd pop in and pay my respects. To your _sanity_ ," Victoire snapped. "We're busy, can't you see? We who are about to die shall flip you off and carry on our way." She did so.

Teddy turned dangerously red. "Victoire, look, I didn't mean it that way—"

"Of course, you meant it in some _other_ was that wouldn't be offensive to me," said Victoire coldly. "Good _evening_."

"I''m sorry."

"No, you're not."

"Can you just let it go?"

Victoire considered this. "Probably, at some point, I'll forget it completely. But right now, no. You just want to know where we're going, am I right?"

Teddy sighed. "Well, yes, but I really am sorry. What can I do to make you believe it?" Teddy turned pale at the expression on Victoire's face. "I meant that as a rhetorical question!"

"You know what you can do," said Victoire, grinning. Roxanne covered her face in her hands.

Teddy grimaced, but descended the stairs and knelt at Victoire's feet, grabbing the hem of her robes.

"Oh, Victoire! You marvelous, wondrous, ethereal creature of beauty and intelligence! How lowly I am! A worm, on the spade of your greatness, my lady!"

"That's laying it on a little thick, don't you think?" Roxanne interrupted.

"That's the _point_ ," Victoire reminded her gleefully. She held out a hand, like a queen, Teddy rolled his eyes, but kissed it. "You may continue, my vassal."

"Thank you, my lady," Teddy said, bowing his head. "I am but a louse in your wig of elegance, oh Great One. I would rather die a thousand deaths and listen to a lecture from you than ever defy your wishes!"

"You have a way with compliments," Victoire noted, "that makes them seem like insults."

"Never, my lady! I am but the toad beneath the dragon's claw of your might! And I ask, dear lady, though I am ever so unworthy of such a honor, for your forgiveness, forgiveness for the wrongs I have dealt you. Will you bestow your blessing upon this insufficient wretch, oh Shiny One? Oh, woe is me!"

"Oh, for the love of Merlin," Roxanne muttered, sprawling on a sofa and letting Victoire's broomstick fall behind it.

"I may," said Victoire, clutching at her heart. "But, oh, my slave! The words that thou hast uttered hast pierced me so, so that I thinkest I may never recover! Oh, the burn of a thousand swords! The sting of a thousand maces! Thou hast wounded me, vassal, and I must not let thee live without repaying thy debt!"

"Oh, Godric." Roxanne sank into an armchair, massaging her temples. "Why do I tolerate you two?"

"We tolerate you," said Teddy cheekily.

"Silence, slave!" Victoire growled.

"What's going on?" came a voice from above them. Maya was standing at the top of the girl's staircase, looking bewildered at the sight of Teddy on his knees, clutching Victoire's hand in his. Her eyes widened.

"Are you _proposing_?" Maya asked, incredulous.

"No!" said Teddy, exasperated.

"Yes," said Victoire, unperturbed.

"He's apologising," Roxanne explained. "And Vic has weird standards."

"I resent that. Now continue, worm," said Victoire, staring down her freckles at Teddy.

"Milady, this unworthy fungus—"

"Fungus?" Victoire demanded.

Teddy glared at her. "This unworthy _fungus_ begs the delight of the shining beacon of your pardon. Will you, Victoire Celeste Weasley—"

"Become Mrs. Teddy Lupin?" Victoire giggled, flapping at her face in mock-flustered embarrassment. "Oooh, Teddy, I'm flattered, I really am. But I'm not sure I'm ready for such a big step in our relationship. I am only eleven. I'll have to consider it." She turned to Maya and Roxanne, who were watching in resigned frustration. "What do you think? You two would be bridesmaids of course, and Aunty Gabrielle's daughter, Lisette, and Lily would be flower-girls. And then for the rest of my bridesmaids . . . well, there's Dom and Lucy and Molly and Rose—"

"Are all your relatives female?" Maya choked.

"Far from it," Roxanne laughed. "There are thirty people in our family, counting the Potters, Teddy, and his grandmother."

Maya whistled. "And I thought my _one_ brother was bad."

"Can we get back to the whole breaking-into-Matron-Bones's-office plan?" Victoire whined. "Teds, you're forgiven, now go get Sam's broom and meet us over by the window."

Since Roxanne was the only one who knew about the plan, and Teddy knew absolutely nothing, Victoire had to sit down and explain about the Slytherins and the VR, the Project Rita Scarpers, the blackmail material, the conversation between Matron Bones and Kingsley, and, for good measure, the article Skeeter had been writing about Colette and her father.

"She's going to ruin Colette's entire family's reputation," Victoire finished. "Not that I like her, cuz I _don't_ , but still."

Teddy's head was in his hands again. "Harry had a dooming prophecy about him and a murderous Dark Lord out for his blood. What's your excuse?"

"I'm very special." Victoire shrugged. "And falafel and waffle rhyme."

"In other words, you have the excuse of complete insanity," Maya summed up. "Anyway, you don't need Corner's broom. I've got one, but we'll need at least two to carry all of us."

"But first years aren't allowed their own broomsticks," Teddy protested. All three girls ignored him.

"Problem solved," said Victoire, snatching her broom from where Roxanne had let it roll beneath the sofa. "Say hello to my Jetstream 3000."

"No way," Maya breathed. "That model isn't even out yet! I've got a Twister 220, but it'll be rendered completely null and void by this baby!" She ran a hand along the cherrywood handle. "Did you steal this? Can you steal me one, too?"

Victoire smirked. "It was a birthday present from an uncle of mine."

"Which one?"

"George Weasley. Proprietor of the one-and-only Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. He's bought up Quality Quidditch Supplies, Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, Zonko's, and is thinking about buying Honeydukes."

Maya shook Victoire's hand. "I am officially impressed."

"I hate to interrupt your love fest over here, but we should go," Roxanne interrupted. "Go get your Twister. Teddy, you're with Vicky, I'll ride with Maya."

"Can't I just stay here?" Teddy asked hopefully, turning a pale, unhealthy green.

"Not an option, you crazy phobe," Victoire gave a maniacal laugh. "This is important."

Teddy sulked until Maya returned, clutching her shiny, spiraling broomstick in one hand, and a heavy woolen cloak in the other.

"What?" she said defensively, when Victoire raised an eyebrow. "I get _cold_."

On one side of the Gryffindor common room, a line of large windows were hung in red-velvet drapes with gold tassels. Victoire shoved one open, mounting her broom and motioning for Teddy to join her.

Mumbling in incoherent dread, he climbed on behind her and hid his face in the back of her robes. Rolling her eyes, she kicked off and soared out the window, as Teddy let out an unmanly squeak of pure terror and gripped her waist tighter.

* * *

The Hospital Wing was on the south side of the castle, and Victoire steered with one hand and clutched the Marauder's Map with the other, trying to prevent the magic parchment from flapping into her face in the wind.

Roxanne, sitting behind Maya on the latter's Twister, was grumbling about the girl's obviously inferior flying skills, poor posture, bad grip, and terrible steering. Maya replied that she would _love_ to see her do better, and Roxanne retorted that she would, too.

Grumbling some of her favorite dragon-tamer's swearwords under her breath (courtesy of her Uncle Charlie), Victoire let Maya's angry reply fade into the background as she tried to line the map up with the panorama of the castle below her. They were circling above the Astronomy Tower, hair whipping in the wind, as Teddy attempted to burrow himself into the back of Victoire's school robes where, presumably, a better, brighter place with a lower elevation awaited him.

"Will you two _shut up_?" Victoire snapped at Maya and Roxanne. "Someone's coming up the tower steps."

Suitably subdued, the bickering pair followed Victoire to the steepled roof of the Astronomy Tower, where Teddy clutched the spire tightly and refused to let go, move, speak, or do pretty much anything except squeeze his eyes shut and freeze.

Vic, Maya, and Roxanne braced their feet against the gilded gutter and huddled around the marauder's Map.

"What is this?" Maya hissed, as the distant murmur of voices drew nearer.

"Magical map made by troublemakers a few generations back, can track everyone's movements on the castle grounds," said Roxanne shortly. 'Tell you more later. Who is it, Vic?"

"I'm going to die," Teddy moaned. "We're all going to die . . . "

"Hush, drama queen," Roxanne scolded.

Vic squinted in the dim light, the tiny, scripted names of the visitors hard to make out in the dusk, then remembered she was a witch and pulled out her wand, whispering " _Lumos_ ," and throwing the names into sharp focus.

"It's Skeeter," Victoire realized, outraged. "And someone called, uh . . . Lada Dreidel?"

"That would be the Ancient Runes teacher," Maya supplied. "Dad made me memorize the staff before I got here."

" . . . and a little dot labeled _Socrates_ ," Victoire continued.

"Her giant snail," Maya whispered.

There was the sound of heels clicking on the marble, then Skeeter appeared on one one of the sleek, telescope-riddled balconies curving around the tower, used for Astronomy classes on clear nights. She was quickly followed by a slender woman, swathed in colorful scarves, her arms adorned with bangles and bracelets her fingers covered in rings. . . none nearly as ugly as Rita's, which Victoire could see clearly, even from this height. And Maya had been right, sure enough—a giant violet-shelled snail, trailing purplish slime down her back, sat on her shoulder, antennae waving.

"Rita," the woman was saying. "I can call you Rita, can't I?"

"Of course, Lada."

"Well, Rita, I really wish I could help you, but I'm afraid it was before my time." The slender, ring-bedecked fingers ran down the bony shell of Socrates the snail. "You might talk to the Headmistress, you know . . . almost none of the original staff has remained, as you may have noticed, but the Headmistress was there when it happened. I've never been there myself, anyway, and the entrance is supposed to be nearly impossible to open if you're the wrong person."

"Oh, I wouldn't involve Minnie in something so, ah, trivial," Rita trilled fakely, but her knuckles were white on the stem of her Quick Quotes Quill, her tacky ring standing out sharply. "Just a bit of curiosity into the history of this old place, you know."

"Well, if it's history you are after, you might try the library," said Dreidel, her fingers never-ceasing on her giant snail's shell.

"Of course," Rita said jovially, and they had turned to leave, just as Maya's foot slipped on the edge of the roof. The scraping noise seemed to echo through the night air, and the three girls plastered themselves to the roof, eyes squeezed tightly shut, not daring to breath.

"Did you hear something?" Rita Skeeter snapped, her pleasant facade dropping.

"Most likely only an owl, coming in late to the Owlery on some errand," said Dreidel mildly, her ringed finger never-ceasing on Socrates's smooth shell. "We'd best get to bed, Rita, before poor Argus comes down on us for curfew-breaking. The man is so ancient and short-sighted that his transition into ghosthood will hamper him as much as it hampered Cuthbert Binns."

"I half expect him to mistake me for his latest cat," Rita laughed, relaxing. "The old fool . . . "

The teachers' voices faded out of hearing as they descended the tower's staircase, and the three breathed a sigh of relief.

"I wonder what it is in the castle she's looking for," Roxanne mused, as they pried Teddy's hands from the spire. "She sounded really desperate, whatever it was."

"What it sounded like was some _place._ " Victoire frowned at the Marauder's Map, watching the two teachers' dots drift apart at the bottom of the staircase. "Someplace in the castle, someplace she doesn't want McGonagall to know she's looking for."

"Anything to add, Teds?" Roxanne asked.

"Iawannagetdoooon . . . " the boy groaned.

Maya, who had been looking over Victoire's shoulder at the map, spoke up suddenly. 'Why does SKeeter's dot have an inkblot on it? None of the others do."

"It's probably a representation of her black soul," Vic quipped. "We'd better hurry—-Matron Bones is in the greenhouses right now, and they're pretty far from the Hospital Wing. We've still got time."

* * *

Victoire landed on the wide window sill outside Matron Bones's office, squeezing next to Maya and Roxanne, Teddy clinging to her elbow for dear life. Whipping out her hazelwood wand, she tapped the window's lock and whispered " _Alohomora,"_ sending all four of them tumbling through onto the carpet.

The Matron's office was painted a peachy yellow, her heaven wooden desk littered with parchment and empty packages of Honeyduke's Honeychoc Bearbites. Victoire found one with a few sticky bears left in the bottom of the box, perched on the desk, letting her knees knock against the drawers, and surveyed the room.

The wall with the open window, where it wasn't blocked by large cabinets of potion bottles and medical books, was covered in photos, all of the nurse with a skinny, red-haired man with a friendly, sheepish expression, and two little girls who must have been their daughters. The oldest was about six, with short, curly auburn hair and a wicked grin, the youngest three or four, with wavy, honey-blonde hair, like her mother's. Another wall was lined with filing cabinets, labels written in a round, neat hand that matched that on the paperwork that was now serving Victoire as a cushion. The third wall was bare, save for a heavy oak door, with a frosted-glass pane. Reading backwards, using the light shining through the glass from the infirmary outside, Victoire could see that the name on the door read 'P. Pomphrey' in peeling letters.

Maya and Roxanne had already started going through the filing cabinets, complaining in hushed tones. ("Her organizational system makes no sense at all! Why can't it be in alphabetical order?" and "There's nothing embarrassing in my brother's file! What's the point of having a brother if you can't embarrass him!" and "I swear these records go back to the Middle Ages! Look, I found my dad. How can you even get a croissant embedded in your forehead?") Meanwhile, Teddy huddled up in a corner, head between his knees, breathing heavily.

Vic popped another Honeychoc Bearbite in her mouth, catching sight of small, spiral-bound red notebook with a plain cover, hidden among the paperwork on the desk. Pulling it out, and wiping sticky residue from the cover with the sleeve of her robes, Victoire flicked through it, pausing at the sight of Skeeter's name on the page.

Aug. 13.

Settling in. Rita approached me for more DSP, She's a really nasty creature. She said that Tammy's hair is so red she looks like she's the product of an affair with a Weasley, the hag.

Chuckling at the nurse's venom, Victoire, ripped the page out carefully and stashed it in her robes. Any possible pieces of the

puzzle were to be looked came across Skeeter's name a few pages later.

Aug. 22.

Neville has some interesting Mandrake specimens in greenhouse three. Brings back some god-awful memories from second year. I vented to Skeeter, of all people, who showed up for more of her favorite potion. She seemed very interested in the story. Probably wants more of a scoop on Harry Potter.

Victoire's eyes were drawn to the pictures on the walls. The matron did look about the same age as her Uncle Harry . . . the 'memories from second year' had to be the Chamber of Secrets, right? Why would Skeeter be so interested in the story? Was she planning on writing another book about Harry?

A chill went down Victoire's spine. A place in the castle. Skeeter was looking for a place in the castle. A place that was ' _nearly impossible to open, if you're the wrong person_.' A place that was 'before Lada Dreidel's time.'

Bt why would Skeeter want to get into the Chamber of Secrets? She was a vindictive scorpion, but not _evil._ Did she just want the 'scoop,' as the nurse had put it, or was there a more sinister purpose to—

"Vic! Look what we found!" Roxanne was waving a pale-yellowish folder in front of Victoire's nose, interrupting her, dark, overly melodramatic thoughts. "It's Skeeter's file! Come and have a look!"

Shaking herself out of her daze, Vic focused on her cousin. "Does it mention DSP?"

"How the bloody hell did you—" Maya began.

Victoire held up the notebook, ripping the page she had just been reading out carefully. "Mrs. Bones doesn't like Skeeter much, but she's not extremely informative. I have found something out, however. Skeeter's been taking a lot of DSP, whatever that is, and I think she's trying to get into the Chamber of Secrets."

There was a long pause. Teddy stopped hyperventilating and stared at her.

"Well," said Roxanne carefully. "DSP stands for Dreamless Sleep Potion. It's in the folder. But why would you say Skeeter's trying to get into the Chamber?"

Victoire explained what she had learned from the notebook, and what she had deduced from the information it contained. This revelation did not seem to lift Roxanne and Maya's sceptical looks.

"Um," said Maya, after another pause. "I still think you're jumping to conclusions."

"I agree with Maya," said Roxanne apologetically. "Skeeter's always been nosy about anything to do with Uncle Harry."

Victoire whirled on the fourth occupant of the room. "You believe me, don't you, Teddy?"

Teddy looked cornered, and gave Roxanne an apologetic look before quivering under Victoire's gaze and mumbling "Yeah. Ahem. Yes. I believe you. Of course."

Victoire gave him a exasperated look, but turned back to her female companions. "See? Teddy beli—"

She was cut off by the door to the infirmary slamming shut, and footsteps hurrying towards them. In a panic, the trespassing students snatached at their brooms and shoved their way to the window, gathering up the evidence of their little nighttime venture as a key rattled in a lock, and hushed voices speaking softly on the other side of the frosted glass. Roxanne shoved the folder into her robes, Victoire grabbed the Marauder's map, and Maya, for the sake of the team, of course, grabbed the half-eaten box of Honeychoc Bearbites. The four could see the silhouettes of their unwitting intruders as Maya and Roxanne launched clumsily out the window. One was the unmistakably stern outline of Matron Bones, the other . . . a coiffed outline of short, wavy hair, a pair of glasses perched on the woman's nose, and a quill clutched in her hand. Victoire could even see that huge, hideous ring on her finger.

"Go go go _go go go_ —" Victoire hissed in Teddy's ear, and they were scrambling out the window just as the door swung open.

"More Dreamless Sleep, you say?" the matron was saying, and they could hear her striding over to a cabinet and rattling through a cluster of vials. "That's the eighth time since August. Nightmares?"

"Thank you, Lisa," said Skeeter coldly. "I'll sign here, right? And here. Have a good evening."

"We all have them, you know." The nurse's voice was persistent. "There's no shame in it. The war took its toll on all of us. I still wake up screaming, most nights."

"We are all entitled to our privacy, are we not?" said Rita stiffly. "I thank you for your time, Lisa."

"Of course." There was a shuffle of feet, and the door closed quietly.

"We should get back, before Wendy or Belle wakes up and finds us missing,' Maya whispered.

Victoire nodded, and the four young students flew back to their dorms, mulling over what they had found and overheard.


	9. Chapter Eight

**Author's Note** : I wasn't going to continue this story, but after the recent interest and positive feedback on it I've decided to give it another shot! A shout out to those of you who have followed/favorited/commented on _VWNW_ recently-you're why there's a new chapter now!

* * *

The rest of the week flew past, with only a few nighttime wanderings. A stakeout in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom failed to catch Rita Skeeter in the act, and gave Victoire a cramp after she fell asleep in one of the stalls. A visit to the centaurs to congratulate them on their general awesomeness was cut short by Neville, and earned her detention for the rest of the week, even when she tried to blame Colette, who had _obviously_ placed her under the Imperius Curse.

Then, of course, were her lessons with the Gryffindor team, lead by the Captain, Beater Isobelissa Cram. Despite her rather unfortunate name, shortened to 'Izzy' by the entire team, and a certain hotheadedness that had put many Slytherins in the Hospital Wing before, Cram was a good captain and an even better Beater. Besides Izzy, there was her fellow Beater, mediator, and co-captain, the cool, collected, and imposing Malcolm Lazorn, the Chasers, Mackenzie Beckham, a fast-talking blonde girl with a Scottish accent, Case Fawley, a fifth-year whose family had moved to England from Wisconsin a few years back, and was probably related to Spencer in some way, and Stacy Haywood, a brown-haired, mischievous-natured imp of a girl, and the Keeper, Ross Jordan, Noah's older cousin.

Victoire was by far the youngest there—there wasn't one among them younger than fourth year—but they got along rather well, with Victoire's charismatic oddities, and her newfound celebrity status as the first-year who had made the Sorting Hat cry and put down the strict and stiff Professor Davies to boot. Izzy called her 'squirt.', and Malcolm called her their 'secret weapon,' while everyone else on the team just called her 'midget.'

There was no denying it, however; Victoire was an amazing Seeker. Her mother had played in Beauxbatons, though not seriously, her father was a good chaser, not to mention that, besides from any genetical talent, she had been trained since before she could even walk by the best teachers her parent's generation could offer.

"The Slytherins are going to go back to the dungeons crying tomorrow," said Izzy with relish, one Friday afternoon, as they headed to the locker rooms, brooms over their shoulders. "Crying and _bloody_."

"If I can help it," Victoire giggled.

'Right you are, boss," said Case Fawley, tossing an arm around Izzy's shoulder. "And, may I say, Izz, you are looking _mighty_ _fine_ this afternoon."

"Leave her alone, Fawley, you dunce, before she decks you," Malcolm reprimanded, wrapping a large hand around Case's skinny shoulder and giving him a gentle shove in the direction of the boy's locker room.

"You were on fire today, midget," Mackenzie called to Victoire. "And I think Rosy's about to tattoo your name across his chest."

"I don't know who you're talking about, or what," said Ross airily. "Anyway, I gotta go shower—"

"Cuz you stink," Stacy put in.

"In more ways than one," Mackenzie added.

Ross held up his hands in defeat. "All right, all right, I see how it is. Whatever happened to teammates stick together, huh?"

"All sorts of things are sticking to you," Stacy put in. "it's the sweat. I can see some grass . . . "

"Dirt," Mackenzie added.

"Lint," Vic volunteered.

Ross stuck his tongue out at them, and followed Case and Malcolm into the boy's locker rooms, leaving Vic to recount for Mackenzie, Stacy, and Izzy, in great, uproarious detail, what it was like when war heroes, while drunk, tripped over their daughter's wooden toy snake and started crying about how Bubby the Thestral's unrequited love for Princess the Unicorn.

* * *

The day of the Saturday game dawned gorgeously. Victoire did not care.

"Vic, you have to get up!"

"Haitchooo."

"No, you don't. Come on, I have marmalade toast!"

"Ckkkk."

"No cake. Up! You need your strength. The match is today."

"Mtsscchcngootooohlllll."

"No, it can't. You're playing Slytherins. You want to crush their fragile hopes and dreams, right? You want obliterate their self worth? You want to rub your victory into Colette's face until her mascara runs, she rips out her extensions, and she hurls herself off the Astronomy Tower in despair and self-loathing?"

"Ysss."

"Then get up!" Roxanne gave Victoire a shove, and the girl was sent flying out of bed in a heap of covers on the floor. "Up and at 'em, Vicky! Time to get movin'!"

Victoire emerged from the heap of red coverlet, giving Roxanne the stink eye. Her hair stuck every which way, and her eyes were only half-open from the bright light Roxanne had unleashed by drawing back the curtains."

"You are a terrible person," Victoire grumbled, as Roxanne tossed her a pair of robes and her Quidditch bag. "Also, did you mean what you said about the marmalade toast?"

"I do have marmalade toast," said Roxanne, letting a now fully-dressed Victoire run a comb through her wayward hair. 'But it's down in the Great Hall. Hurry up, buttercup!" she called, in an annoying, sing-song voice as Victoire chased her out of the empty dorm in a marmalade-deprived fit of rage.

* * *

Victoire sat with the team for breakfast. Nerves were beginning to creep into her abdomen, a feeling Victoire was not and probably never would be familiar with. She was quiet for the first half of the meal, picking at the atrociously healthy food on her plate (selected by Teddy and forced down Vic's throat by Izzy, in her capacity as Victoire's captain.) When, at some point throughout the meal, she saw Colette smirking at her from the Slytherin table, her lack of resolve snapped, and she gave Colette a Victoire sneer, remembering the rousing rendition of "Weasley is Our Queen," that had filled the Gryffindor common room the night before, the lyrics generally improved by Fleur as her contribution to Victoire's general Quidditch-related well-being.

Mackenzie, on Victoire's right, passed the marmalade dish down to Victoire, and watched her in fascination as she spread a ridiculously enormous amount on her toast and took a huge bite, instantly feeling better.

"We're going to have to start calling you the Marmy Lady," Stacy remarked, on Victoire's other side, pushing a clump of Izzy-issued broccoli around her plate. "Is it your signature dish?"

"My signature dish is cinnamon rolls," Victoire replied, swallowing. "With marmalade."

The rest of the team laughed, even Izzy, whose mild look of horror worsened when Case tried to sit next to her. Malcolm, whose job it was to act as a general barrier between the team and Izzy's temper, gently grabbed Case's head in one large hand and steered him over to the other side of Ross, who was looking forlornly at his own broccoli.

"Give it up, headcase,' Victoire giggled. "It's never going to happen."

* * *

Victoire was greeted with the roar of the crowd as she and the rest of the team walked out onto the pitch. She spotted Teddy, Maya, and Roxanne up in one of the stands, wearing Gryffindor scarves and bellowing like hippogriffs. Teddy's enthusiasm for Quidditch went about as far as cheering for a team. Any more involvement had him dry-heaving at the thought of highness.

"And here comes the Gryffindor team, though they _are_ rather obvious—something to do with all that red and gold, I suppose—I'm still obliged to teach Colour 101 to you bunch of nincompoops," came the announcer's drawling voice from behind them.

"ZABINI!" screeched Professor Davies, to a murmur of delighted laughter from the crowd, and, startled, Victoire glanced up to see a teen, who must have been Maya's brother, standing with magical microphone in his hand. He had Maya's caramel-colored skin and raven hair, and his teeth flashed white as he caught Victoire staring at him and gave her a saucy wink.

"Sorry, Professor," he said, not sounding the least bit sorry. "Now, where were we? Ah, yes. Speculating on the lack of lovely young ladies on the Slytherin team. Now, far be it for me to be to be self-deprecating, but my house suffers a distinct lack of athletic females. Care to place a bet on why that is, Penny?" he asked Davies. "And, might I say, you are looking _mighty_ fine today. Are you busy tonight? Cuz I've got a date with destiny."

"Stop hitting on my mother!" called a third-year boy from one of the stands. There was a murmur of laughter as Professor Davies flushed red and attempted to snatch at the microphone. Maya's brother, Alex, Victoire remembered, ducked easily, then called "Slow down, Penelope! I'm not _that_ easy!"

The crowd laughed again, and Victoire cupped her hands over her mouth. "Zabini! I don't know about you, but I thought we were here to play Quidditch!"

"We would be, if Penny here could keep her hands off of me,' Alex protested, leaning out of reach of the Transfiguration Professor's grasping hands. "Now, you must be the lovely Miss Weasley. Isn't your mum a Veela?"

"I guess I don't know, Zabini, since I'm just another color-blind nincompoop," Victoire called back, to general amusement. Professor Davies snatched the microphone from Alex's grip.

"Team captains, shake hands," Katie said, sounding disappointed that the little show had ended, and Izzy snatched Brutus Warrington's callused fingers up in a decidedly uncivil handshake.

Katie blew the whistle, flipping open the lid of the chest containing the balls, and tossed the Quaffle into the air as the teams ascended into the air. Victoire shot, streamlined, to an incredible height above the pitch, eyes flicking across the stands.

"And it's Warrington with the Quaffle, he dodges Beckham, he dodges Fawley, and . . . oooh! That looked like a big-boo-boo!" Alex must have reclaimed the microphone. "He takes a Bludger, neatly aimed by Izzy Cram. A Mr. Case Fawley has promised me twenty Galleons if I will serenade Miss Cram with a love poem of his own unrequited pen . . . " Alex cleared his throat, and began to warble. "Oh, Izzy, so whizzy, so fast and so scary, oh Izzy, my Izzy, for you my chest becomes hairy . . . "

The crowd roared, and, as Mackenzie caught the Quaffle, Izzy nearly dove off her broom to wrap her fingers around Case's neck, but Malcolm caught her, and the giant calmly set her back on her broom. He gave her a push in the direction of Mackenzie.

Gritting her teeth, Izzy beat a Bludger at the back of the Slytherin Beater's head, who had been about to hit the other Bludger at Mackenzie, sending him spinning toward the ground. Mackenzie tossed the Quaffle to Stacy, who caught it snugly, shot past all three of the heavyset Slytherin Chasers, and tossed it into the left hoop, The Slytherin Keeper, who had been hovering near the right, was treated to an earful of obscenity by Warrington, still clutching his bruised arm.

Victoire caught a flicker of gold on the Slytherin's side of the pitch, easy to distinguish from the severe lack of gold in those particular stands. The Slytherin Seeker was laughing uproariously at the Beater for his own team, stumbling along, cross-eyed, around the pitch. Like all the other members of the Slytherin team, he was male, dark-haired and oddly large and heavyset for a Seeker. Victoire recognized him as Drollis Rosier from Izzy's over-obsessive drillings, but had no time to consider that now. Case had the Quaffle and was evading the opposing team's Chasers with a series of clumsily executed spins and dives, probably to impress Izzy who looked like she was about to throttle him. Even from Victoire's perspective it looked annoying, but she had other things on her mind. Case's antics were enough of a distraction to allow Victoire to drift along towards the Slytherin side of the pitch, where she had spotted the glint. There it was, hovering in front of her nose, as Alex, in the background, likened Case's flying skills to that of a porpoise thrashing on a stake.

Victoire made a swipe for the Snitch just as it darted out of her reach. Cursing quietly, she began to circle around the pitch, surveying the other players.

Izzy was shouting something about replacing Case with a chimp in dungarees. Victoire didn't know what dungarees were, but it sounded good. Mackenzie finally gave in to the primal, possessive nature of Chasers, kicked Case in the gut, and snatched the Quaffle when he dropped it. It happened so fast that Victoire could barely make it out, but suddenly Mackenzie was shooting over the heads of the frustrated Slytherins Chasers and tossing the Quaffle through the middle hoop while the Keeper slouched to the side, watching the spectacle that was Case.

It wasn't long before Victoire spotted the Snitch again, hovering behind the ear of the heavyset Slytherin Keeper. Smiling wickedly, Victoire swooped in behind him and snatched the Snitch from the air just as Mackenzie hurled the Quaffle through the right hoop. Victoire collided with the back of the Keeper's head just as the Quaffle soared towards his fingers, sending keeper and broom into a tailspin while the scoring board when up 160 points on the Gryffindor's side. Victoire had the snitch clutched tightly in her gloved palm.

* * *

"Weasley is our Queen,

Weasley is our Queen,

Weasley will kick em' in the spleen,

Cause' she is fast and swift and mean,

That's why we Gryffindors all preen,

That Weasley is our Queen!"

The celebration in the Gryffindor common room lasted till three in the morning, with the song lyrics getting more violent with every verse, and, when it was moved to the kitchens, it lasted until two, when Neville stomped in in his nightshirt and told them if they didn't keep it down then he'd have to stop pretending it wasn't happening. After that, they all tramped off to bed, Izzy still deliriously happy.

"That was an epic battle," Izzy sighed, leaning up against Malcolm. "380-10! Bleeding and crying!"

"Rosier did go so high up he got a bloody nose," Victoire said, noncommittally. "I suppose the game was all right."

"All right?" Izzy gasped. " _All_ _right_?"

The Chasers and Ross had gone on ahead, giggling tipsily and probably helpless to evade Filch and his ilk. They could hear the thumping and muttered curses all the way along the corridor.

"I'm kidding," said Victoire, breaking into a broad grin. "That was BRILLIANT! Did you see when I kicked Clevington in the back of the head?"

"I nearly cried," Izzy sighed happily.

* * *

The following morning, Victoire was ladling marmalade onto her toast when Roxanne, sitting on her left with the Daily Prophet, spat orange juice all across the table. Victoire didn't even look up.

"Vic, we are having a serious discussion after breakfast," her cousin hissed in her ear, but, before Victoire could reply, Sam Corner belted out a delighted laugh.

"Hey, would you look at this!" he roared. " 'Draco Malfoy's explorations in his youth may have included his friends and cronies, the dim-witted and infamous Crabbe and Goyle, writes this anonymous journalist for the Daily Prophet. Early this morning we received an anonymous tip-off from one of Mr. Malfoy's childhood friends, assuring the Daily Prophet, dear readers, that Mr. Malfoy's relationship with his bodyguards was unusual, to say the least.' This is _fantastic_!"

Maya, on the other side of Roxanne, gave Victoire a raised eyebrow but no further commentary. Teddy, on Vic's other side, who had just taken a bite of his favorite dessert when Sam read the article out loud, was now choking on baklava. Victoire took the opportunity to wrap several cupcakes and a plate of cinnamon rolls in some napkins and stuff them in her school bag. Roxanne got up to pound Teddy on the back until he stopped turning blue.

"Of course they're anonymous," Sam roared, seemingly oblivious to his baklava-inhaling friend. "Malfoy would come down like a load of bricks on anyone who would dare to put their name on an article like _this_! Blimey, listen: 'Mr. Malfoy has denied any so-called "explorations" into his sexuality, calling it "preposterous and unfounded," as well as "fake news." ' "

"Methinks the lady doth protest too much," Victoire quipped, to roars of laughter from the entire table.

Roxanne wasn't dragging Victoire by the ear, but she maintained the feeling that she was doing so as they crossed the grounds to an old oak near the lake. She was seething.

"What were you thinking?" Roxanne finally hissed, when Maya, Teddy, Roxanne, and Victoire reached the tree. It was Sunday, and glorious, and the grounds were crawling with students, so Roxanne kept her voice at a sharp whisper. "We need the blackmail to actually _blackmail_ Malfoy!"

Victoire grinned. "See, nothing is _confirmed_. Malfoy'll already be on edge, and so, instead of trying to find the blackmailer, he'll just go along with what we want to make sure that we don't leak the 'proof' to the press."

Roxanne clutched at her head. "I don't know what to say."

Victoire folded her arms. "You don't know what to say 'cuz I'm _right_. Let's accept the simple truth and move on, because I don't have time for pointless arguing. Speaking of pointless, Davies hates me and has assigned me three feet of parchment on turning buttons into _toadstools_."

* * *

Victoire was chewing her eagle quill to a pulp when a dignified-looking barn owl appeared at the library window, a letter tied to one slender leg. A Ravenclaw third-year girl got up to let her in, and untied the scroll.

"Are you Victoire Weasley?" she asked.

Victoire looked up in surprise, still cursing Davies to the depths of Dolores Umbridge's underwear drawer. "Oh. Yes! I am. Who's it from?" she asked, sliding her school bag to make room from the girl on the seat beside her.

"The Ministry," the girl said, sitting down next to Victoire and handing the missive over. She had honey-blonde hair in two French braids down to her wrist and bright blue eyes to match her tie. "You haven't been doing any underage magic, have you?"

Victoire raised an eyebrow at the envelope, waving an airy hand. "Oh. pish posh. I do live in a magical family, don't I? Anyway, this is probably just from one of my aunts."

The Ravenclaw gave her an odd look. "What does living in a magical family have to do with anything?"

Victoire focused on her for the first time. "You're Sonia, right? Sonia Clerik?"

The Ravenclaw nodded. "Um. I don't mean to be rude, but how do you know that?"

Victoire grinned. "Ross Jordan has a huge crush on you. Don't tell him I said that."

A blush spread across Sonia's cheeks. " _Ross Jordan_? Me?"

Victoire nodded gleefully. "To answer your question, the Ministry can only track magic in a certain area, not magic from a certain person. They basically know everything a Muggle-born is up to, but the magical families have to keep their own children in check. I know because my Uncle Harry got blamed for a Hovering Charm cast by a house-elf."

Sonia laughed. "So, you really _are_ from the Weasley family!" she blushed. "I mean, the Weasley family as in Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley and Hermione Weasley and Ginny Weasley."

"Yep." Victoire grinned at her. Quickly scraping off the wax seal on the scroll, she unrolled it to find a letter from the Ministry of Magic. Scanning it quickly, her grin widened. Hermione congratulated her on making Gryffindor, reminded her to study well for her classes, was glad that the Potions teacher wasn't as unfair as Snape had been, and listed the history and incantation for what she called the _Proditorus Marcum_ spell.

P. S. I would recommend several books in the Hogwarts library for Veela information, including the _Les Willis Files_ by Alexandre Dubois, and the _Guide to the Veela Culture of England and France_ , by Lisel Bernard.

Victoire folded up the letter with a thoughtful expression on her face, and turned to Sonia, who looked curious. "Do you like our new DADA professor?" she asked nonchalantly.

Sonia's face darkened. "She's a menace. She took points from my friend Kylie just for asking whether she had the right credentials to be a teacher, since she's a journalist, and my uncle, who plays lead guitar for the Hungarian Horntails says she completely made up his interview with her in _Witch Weekly_. He'd never give an interview to such a fraud!" Sonia paused, as if realizing she shouldn't have been so loud. "Er. Sorry."

Victoire waved her hand. "Perfectly all right." She gave the Ravenclaw an insolent grin. "How would you feel like undermining Skeeter on her own turf?"

Sonia's eyes lit up. "Can your family get rid of Skeeter?"

"No," said Victoire happily. "But _I_ can.'

* * *

"Meet me in the empty classroom on the seventh floor at eleven o'clock if you don't like our DADA teacher. Bring your friends. It's fun for the whole family," Maya read from the slip of parchment on her hand. "This had been wedged under every dormitory door in the castle, it seems. Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs. Gryffindors. I assume the Slytherins."

"Fancy that," said Victoire innocently.

"Which is why," Roxanne continued. "We were wondering if you had something to do with it."

"Me?" Victoire looked affronted. "Look, that paper has a very complex charm on it, to keep unfriendly persons from being able to read it. Do you really think I can do something like that?"

Teddy squinted at her. "How did you know about the charm?"

Victoire hummed to herself, peering around the corner. They were on the seventh floor, waiting for the rest of the recruited. It was ten fifty-five. Teddy grumbled to himself.

"Am I late?" Sonia appeared, looking anxious. Teddy was suddenly very, very quiet as the girl pulled back the hood of her cloak, her big blue eyes and thick blonde braids, Victoire suddenly realized, the reason for Teddy's abrupt silence. She sniggered to herself, exchanging looks with Roxanne and Maya, both as amused as she was.

"You're early, in fact," said Victoire cheerfully. "Care for a Chimera Chew?"

Sonia eyed the small, red-orange toffee warily, but took a hesitant nibble. Immediately, she began hacking and coughing, clawing at her throat with her fingernails.

"Of course, it's a bit of an acquired taste,' Victoire continued, as Sonia thumped at her chest, eyes watering. "Bit of a zing, a little zap, innit?" She withdrew another from her bag. "Anyone else?"

There was a hasty chorus of polite dissention.

"Oh well." Victoire put it back in the bag. "It's the latest product from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. I told Uncle George I'd try it out. It has this little side effect . . . or maybe that's the point, it's hard to tell with George . . . "

Sonia gave one more hacking cough, kneeling on the floor, and exhaled in relief. There was a dull roar, and a slight scream from the group of schoolchildren gathered at the end of the corridor.

"Hullo," said Victoire. "I'm Vicky." The huddle became even more huddled. Victoire glanced down. "Oh," she said dismissively. "That's Sonia. She doesn't normally breathe fire." She gave the other visitors a shark-like grin. "Care to join us?"

* * *

"I knew you were the one behind all this," Teddy said, pounding his fist into his palm. "Er . . . whatever this is."

It looked like nearly the entire school had come out against Skeeter. The classroom was packed to the gills, even, Victoire noticed, with some apprehension, some seventh-years, head and shoulders above the throng. Skeeter was not very popular, was she? Victoire put on an expression that closely resembled Andromeda's pureblood-patented Hostess Smile, clambering onto a desk and calling for attention. The murmur died as all eyes turned to her.

"Hello, ladies, gentlemen, and Slytherins," Victoire began. Several Slytherins gave her angry looks. "I'm kidding," she said hastily. "I mean, I'm practically an honorary Slytherin myself, amiright?" She received nothing but blank looks.

Roxanne gave her an encouraging look. Maya mouthed _stop blathering, you idiot._

"All right." Victoire clapped her hands. "Follow me, everyone." She hopped down from the desk and the crowd parted as much as they were able to let her pass by.

"Wait,' said a Hufflepuff fifth-year from the back of the room. "Who're you? Why do we have to listen to you?"

"Yeah," called a Slytherin. "We want to get rid of Skeeter, not go tramping through the castle behind some blondie firstie!"

Victoire turned back around, hands on her hips. "1., My name is Victoire Weasley, and 2., you have to listen to me because I'm awesome and I have blackmail material on Skeeter. 3., who're you calling blondie, blondie, and 4. I smell cupcakes." Victoire whirled on the group of Hufflepuffs who had arrived in time to be frightened by Sonia. "Did you bring cupcakes?"

The Hufflepuffs shrank back.

"I hate to break this up,' said a familiar voice. Amber appeared from behind the group of Slytherins, one of which had called Victoire 'blondie.' ". . . but where exactly are we going?" She was wearing combat boots, a purple headscarf that matched her bracelets, and a pair of Muggle jeans.

Victoire grinned at her. "Great question. Come on up here." She snatched Amber's arm and pulled her into the semi-circle of space by the door. "You too. Roxanne. Maya. Teddy."

Her friends joined her at the front of the crowd.

"This, everyone, is my—oh, get up here, Sonia." Victoire waited until the blushing Ravenclaw had crept up next to them. "This is my elite team. If you—"

"Oi, what about us?" shouted someone from the back of the crowd.

Victoire rolled her eyes. "Plus the Gryffindor Quidditch team—-"

"And us!"

Victoire clenched her jaw. "And Felix Nott and Audran Safiq-"

"There aren't any Hufflepuffs on your elite team!" someone protested.

Victoire clutched her head. "Olivia Finch-Fletchley, you're Hufflepuff, right? Get up here." A girl with dark hair was shoved into Victoire's little group, as the Gryffindor Quidditch team, Felix, and Audran pushed their way to join Victoire's 'elite.'

"This," said Victoire firmly. "Is my elite team, whether I like it or not." there was a murmur of laughter. "If you have any questions, ask one of the members and they will give you a particularly convincing and reassuring lie. Everyone happy? Good. Follow me." Turning on her heel, Victoire exited the classroom and stepped to the side, as everyone in the room attempted to leave at once. She sat on the floor, playing with her _Penny Haywood_ baseball cap, and waited for her brand-new cronies to sort themselves out with a minimum of bloodshed.

* * *

"This is _it_?" said a dissatisfied Ravenclaw. "A blank wall."

"Oh, dear Moggy—" began Victoire, in a condescending tone.

"It's Maggie,' the girl snapped.

"Maggie. Care to tell me why you managed to score Ravenclaw when your brain deficiency is so apparent?" Several people sniggered, and Maggie glowered.

"This,' said Victoire, with relish, "is the entrance to the Come-and-Go-Room."

"What's that?" Maggie demanded. Victoire sighed.

"This, my friend, is the door to the Room of Requirement."

Sonia tapped her on the shoulder. "Victoire, that burned in Fiendfyre. It's in Hogwarts, a History."

Victoire grinned. "That's what we all believed, is it not? Until today."

She paced back and forth, muttering _I need a room where we can practice defensive magics and blackmail Skeeter into oblivion. I need a room where we can practice defensive magics and blackmail Skeeter into oblivion._ _I need a room where we can practice defensive magics and blackmail Skeeter into—_

"You look daft,' said Maya rudely.

Victoire did indeed look and feel daft, at least until a door appeared in the blank length of corridor.

"Impossible," said Roxanne flatly. "The Room burnt up."

"Seeing is believing, my dear Roxy-Anne," said Victoire cheerfully, pushing the door open. "Let's see if we can find any Crabbe skeletons, shall we?"

* * *

 **Next Chapter:** "It's p **R** etty sound advic **E** , **V** ictoire,' Teddy said hes **I** tantly. "I mean, w **E** ll, you shouldn't tickle a sleeping dragon. It's not a very good idea on the **W** hole."

Thank you to **bridget237** for being my first-ever non-guest reviewer! Thank you!

Also, just in case bribery works, if you leave a review I'll not only be spurred to write more, but I'll put your username in a Roll Call of Honor at the end of of the next chapter and/or answer any questions you might have about my story! ;)

CritterCat


	10. Notice

**Author's Note** : Hello to those of you who read my story! I'm sorry, but this is not a new chapter. I do have one semi-lined up and ready to go, but first I'd like to say . . . well, I am thinking of re-writing Victoire's story, keeping most of the major plot points and characters, but also with more planning, precision, and one major difference - she ends up in Slytherin. I don't what to make this change if it means I will lose my readers, because that would break my heart. :( I also would like t osay that this is how I tend to work and that rewrites are just part of the process for me, but on this website it gets a little complicated to do something like that. I'm a semi-perfectionist, at least where it comes to writing. I also would like to say I have the first couple of chapters of the rewrite ready, and that I have started on an outline for it so I won't be going blind. I plan to have Victoire's aunt, Gabrielle be a larger part in the story, and I've removed some of the plot holes I may have let slip. I would just like to hear your feedback on where to go with this since I want to be in sync with what my reviewers and followers and favoriters want. I would really appreciate any feedback/suggestions that you might have.

CritterCat

P. S. I am also planning some Veela intrigue in the rewrite.


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